You'll get up slowly
shortly before it strikes ten,
and you'll straighten your hair,
that I unraveled with my fingers…
And you'll fasten your skirt,
and you'll stroke my back
with a "see you tomorrow",
and you will leave with a reproach.
I will lose you with the night
that calls at my window…
And you will go down the steps
two by two, three by three.
They wants you home
shortly before it strikes ten.
Go away.
It's getting late, go away already.
Go away.
And, in the threshold of the door,
shortly before it strikes ten
you'll erase the last mark
that on your face I forgot…
And you'll look bad.
And you'll tell me with sadness
"goodbye", from the corner.
And later you'll leave running…
The night will go wrapping you
in its dark mist.
Your mother will open the door,
she will smile, and you will kiss.
The girl sleeps at home…
And on clock it will strike ten.