Penélope,
With her handbag brown skinned
And her pumps
And her Sunday dress.
Penélope,
She sits down on a bench of the platform
And awaits for the coming of the first train
Wagging the fan.
They say in the town
That a walker stopped his watch
A spring's afternoon.
"Goodbye love of mine don't cry
I'll be back before that from willows
Fall the leaves
Think of me, I'll come back for you"
Poor unhappy, your children watch got still
A leaden afternoon of April
When your lover gone.
In your orchard withered
Even the last flower
There's no a willow in
The street Mayor for Penélope.
Penélope,
Sadness forcefully cause of waiting
Your eyes seem to shine
If a train whistle from away .
Penélope,
One after another she sees them to walk
She looks at their faces, [she]hear them talking
For her, they're dolls.
They say in the town
That the walker came back
He found her sat in her bench of green pine
He called her:"Penélope, my faithful lover, my peace
Stop to weave dreams in your mind
Look at me, I am your love, I came back"
She smiled at him, with her eyes full of the yesterday
There weren't like that his face nor his skin
"You aren't whom I wait for"
And she stays with her handbag brown skinned
And her little pumps
Sat on the station...
Sit on the station.