Like the coming and going of the waves at sea,
I would like my way of love to be:
to leave a woman, to forget,
go back to another woman to begin.
That woman forgot me, without compassion
she betrayed me, and I fell in love the moment I saw her
thinking that, truly, she was going to love me,
thinking that, truly, she was going to love me.
Swallows, loving swallows,
where would I find her?
Where can you be, my love?
She fled from my affection without knowing
that each spring it has to bloom
like the warm waves of love,
to forget.
She fled from my affection without knowing
that each spring it has to bloom
like the warm waves of love,
to forget.
(Repeats from "Swallows, loving swallows")