Just as the veils of a star
now extinguish the springtime of morning.
Just as the canvas of a sail
is now only the wind that dies.
I rest from my sorrow.
My heart reposes on satin.
Like a mother who tries—
that the child, that the turn do not forget—
that the sadness is the same
to learn that he will not return.
I no longer need to repeat
that I really liked to regret it.
~~~~~
I rest from my sorrow.
My heart reposes on satin.