These years along our time, these years cover us
as a fine powder, unstoppable.
Nimble creeps in the mind, unknowingly.
This sly dust permeates the muscles, blood and veins,
but helpless before the heart stops,
and can not penetrate it.
Our hearts remain free of time, pure as crystal.
I have no fear, my love,
you’re always here in my heart,
starting from the happy days
in our fresh sea room.
The horses fountain was an incessant shout,
mixture of splashing, train whistles,
din among the daisies shot up in the sun.
Silhouettes of convoys and velvet flowers
slept in the avenues of the resort.
Now there’s you again, coloring my days,
to wake me up from the stupor of sadness.
Don’t arm the mind with melancholy thoughts,
just listen to your heart, nothing but your heart,
and when you’ll be sad, your heart will take you up,
and will not deceive you.
Your heart will reveal I’ll never get tired of you
because the sun rises in the morning,
and it warms me with your time.
I will tell you that I’m not tired of you
because nonchalant you traverse
the more subtle ways of my soul,
and because you gave me our guys,
honest and vigorous.
I’ll never get tired of you
because you are all my time,
inexorably nailed in front of our hearts.
I keep myself knotted to your shadows
and your smiles.
Remember? I said I would have liked
to grow old with you.
We are doing well, my love.
And when we
will have spent a hundred years together?
What are a hundred years before of
Happy Birthday, my love,
What are one hundred years,
will have learned to fly?