Under the ancient tower's eaves,
a friendly swallow returns
when the almond tree blossoms.
She returns each year,
always on the same day;
to return she crosses mountains and seas.
Only love,
once fled, goes far away.
You hope, in vain,
for it doesn't return.
You hope, in vain,
for it necer returns.
In this tender half-light of the dusk
Spring is slowly slipping away.
Swallows twitter in their flight
Drunk with the light and the breeze.
But I am sad and lonely;
for you won't cross mountains and seas to come back.
My little one,
you were my whole life;
but you fled
and never returned.
You fled
never to return.