She is 18 years old
Her hair is in the wind
She has the figure of a swan
That's spreading its wings
She speaks with the accent
Of a singing bird
And all the musicians
They turned so that they could see her
She had all the splendor
Of that century
Where the waltz was the queen
Where love was the king
In a sky of laces
Unreal
She put her hands
On a harpsichord
And Chopin loved her
Chopin thought she was gorgeous
She didn't have to smile
To make them write
Listen to the preludes
That have been composed to her
I have dreamed so much of her
I spoke to her
I often
Took it for her
She is my ideal
The biggest star
And I see it looking like
A faithful self-portrait
There isn't anything
And she is my role model
She is 18 years old
Her hair is in the wind
The magic of the madnesses
That people have for her
She is the most beautiful person
I wish I were her