Old wall
of suburb,
your shadow was
my partner.
Of my childhood
without glory
my friend was
your honeysuckle.
When trembling
my first love,
with its hope
kisses my soul,
me with you,
pure and happy,
I was singing
my first confession.
Blooming honeysuckles
that saw me born
and in the old wall
surprised my love.
Your humble caress
is like the love
first and beloved
that I feel for him.
Blooming honeysuckles
that go climbing,
your arm is tough
and sweet like his.
If every year
your flowers bloom again
make my first love
not to die.
Years passed
and my dellusions
I come to tell you
my old wall..
So I learned
that one must fake
to live
decently,
that love and faith
are lies
and of pain
people laughs...
Today that life
has punished me
and taught me
its bitter credo,
old wall
with excitement
I come close to you
and I say like yesterday.
Blooming honeysuckles
that saw me born
and in the old wall
surprised my love.
Your humble caress
is like the love
first and beloved
that I feel for him.
Blooming honeysuckles
that go climbing,
your arm is tough
and sweet like his.
If every year
your flowers bloom again
Why my first love
no more returns?