24 de Agosto

Twenty-fourth of August... It's been a year
I haven't missed a coffee night,
And that I go out afterwards with the boys
To dance, to drink and I don't know what...
A year that I don't touch a tool
And that I talk to the old lady every month,
That I wake up in the hours of the siesta
And go to bed with the six o'clock whistle.
 
Next to his love it was another life,
Another life, more full of illusion,
Pleasure of working and being cut off
From the café, from the corner, from the living room.
Next to his love it was nicer
The shirt ironed to starch,
The coat brushed on Sundays...
And a rose covering the heart.
 
Twenty-fourth of August, and in one year
How unintentionally existence changes!
For no reason I raised my hand
And then, out of guilt I cried it.
My life is not the same. Everything is sad
It's so sad that I don't even want to think,
It's been a year, it's been a year since you left.
But useless, I remember you so much more.