Cuento azul

The blue story my mother told me
back in the hours of my childhood,
today its sublime pages of confidences and simplicity
of confidences and simplicity,
a story that sealed an emotion
in the grayish and autumnal dusk,
next to the skirt my hands were resting
and I listened... my blue tale.

To remember a dream is to live,
is the lyrical return of yesterday,
it is springtime for the aged soul,
it is song and breeze... it is faith and pleasure...
To yearn... to be able to return
to beautiful hours of youth,
is to be intoxicated with joys and hopes...
that in the distance... are rolling away...

And the blue story... I know that you were waiting for me to tell it...
for me to tell it... Didn't you?
It can't be... forgive me the secret...
I want to hide it inside me...
What my mother told me,
maybe it really happened sometime...
forgive me I can't confess to you
because I reserve... my blue tale.