Go, go, go, go, go, go wherever you want.
It's about time—get out—go to hell and goodbye.
Go, go, go, go, go, go, hurry yourself up.
You're no longer twenty and, in a short time, you'll no longer be yourself.
I confer upon you a genuine diploma
in the combat of love—you were a good soldier.
You leave in my curtains the smell of your cigars,
along with a photograph of you, stuck in a closet.
Go, go, go, go, go, go, be happy.
For my part, I will try to forget you a bit.
Go, go, go, go, go, go, don't even think about it.
I'm over twenty, but it's in my blood, so just don't worry about it.
I will finally be able to go out after midnight
and do no matter what and see no matter whom.
To go to the Caribbean, to Santa Monica,
and even to Kathmandu when the urge hits me.
Go, go, go, go, go, go, think of me.
In the great crossroads of memories, I've made you an appointment.
Do not smoke too much, do not drink too much—ha ha ha!
And if one day you want to come back, I will wait for you at our house.
Go, go, go, go, go, go wherever you want.
It's about time—get out—go to hell and goodbye.