Someone whistles low in the street
and does not know that every note reminds me of you—
of you who no longer comes back to me—
who knows where you will be?
The face that I loved so much appears to me
and I return in my mind to the past, and then
everything around me seems sad—
I sense that I will live through another sad evening,
with only the memory of you.
The face that I loved so much appears to me
and I return in my mind to the past, and then
everything around me seems sad—
I sense that I will live through another sad evening,
with only the memory of you.