In our home
thy voice is no longer heard,
the night comes filling
the entire room.
The lilacs of the vase
have left withering
at home.
From our home
my youth left
running after thy steps,
crossing the city
while solitude
rocks me in her arms
at home.
In our home
the fire is no longer lit by anyone,
nobody calls at my door,
the time passes lifeless
without thy hands.
In our home,
I am nothing more than a shadow
that has no illusions.
Suddenly I became old,
I speak with the mirror
and I open not the drawers
so not to find memories.
Of our home
that is not mine without thee,
I will leave in the morning
without knowing where to go
and I will return to live
from from the windows
of home.
And at our home
other mouths will come
to erase our kisses
and my sad song
will remain in a corner
dreaming of thy return
home.
To our home…