There is so much joy in their slightest smile.
To watch them live—me, I do not fear for
them—in their pure madness, it is their rudeness that speaks for them.
Them—in their naiveté, they have the impudence of people too happy.
Them—to watch them live is to open a book with a sad ending.
Them—it is a myth that he would sacrifice his life for them.
Looking at them lost in such a grand love,
my heavy heart cries a sad adieu.
My thoughts stray with a single glance
because this love I knew it as
them—in their pure madness, they silently impose on me a faded dream.
Them—in their naiveté, they revive the dance of a buried happiness.
Them—to watch them live for me relives my wilder days.
Them—to take back the myth that offered me a happiness too grand.
Looking at them lost in such a grand love,
my heavy heart cries a sad adieu.
My thoughts stray with a single glance
because this love I knew it as
them.