I let a few hours pass by,
just in case your dream would run away.
the candle was sleeping,
your time met my time,
and, anyway, the guitar on its own
spins with you in the middle.
I think that the moon is already very high
and there's missing in the caress
a trip to the humidity.
I think that I wake at night
cold, uncovered,
groping in the darkness.
I think that rain is falling,
and I'm not smiling,
letting myself get wet.
I think I'm going to lose sleep
over a finger here, a lip there,
that I lost you, that you're not here anymore,
that I already lived, that you're leaving.
I let a few hours pass by,
sleepless pupil,
just in case I didn't care.
Your time met my time,
moments and moments
that don't want to pass away.
and here's the guitar
that casts off again,
sings and moans while flying.