Under the eaves of the old tower/
A friendly swallow/
Is back at the blossoming of the almond/
It returns every year/
Always at the same date/
It crosses Mountains and seas to come back/
Only Love/
When it flees and goes far/
I hope in vain and you don´t come back/
I hope in vain and you don´t come back/
In the sweet half-light of the evening/
Springs passes/
Twitting the swallows fly away/
Enchanted/Drunk of Light and air/
And I am sad and lonely/
You don´t cross no more mountains and seas to come back/
My Baby (is the most appropiated definition for "piccina"), you was all my life/
You´ve fleen and don´t come back/
You´ve fleen and don´t come back/