Podré olvidar [English translation]

The years may pass

and forget the fields where, yesterday, I played.

I may forget my poems

that, at that school, i wrote yesterday.

I may forget

my hometown holiday,

that sensation of freedom

the Sunday afternoons.

But never I'll be able to forget

that first love,

that was sincere, that was true.

But never I'll be able to forget

that first love,

that was sincere, that was true.

It may get lost, far back,

that old village that slept under the sun.

I may forget the time

that flying by, I felt grown up.

I may forget

the napping hours in the loft,

my color pencils' box

and my keen desire of being a poet some day.

But never I'll be able to forget

that first love,

that was sincere, that was true.

But never I'll be able to forget

that first love,

that was sincere, that was true.

I may forget my shadow

that, once in a while, taught me how to play,

I may forget my name

that, although poor, I liked to have,

I may forget

the wind's caress that, on blowing by,

left in my porch, each afternoon,

the autumn leaves.

But never I'll be able to forget

that first love,

that was sincere, that was true.

But never I'll be able to forget

that first love,

that was sincere, that was true.