I'm listing the pages of my past
and I remember that cold winter
When we walked together, hand in hand
and in the snow I wrote your name
White snow snows again
The wind from the mountains are preparing a storm
People in the street smile, gayfully
but your hands are not in mine.
You left early in the spring
with the smells of the first violet
you shiver within my arms
I still remember that tearful face
I walk through the street, dreaming and alone
while the wind laughs in the branches
where are you? why don't you contact me?
is someone else warming your hands?