Pregonera

Little ivory blonde princess
owner of my youthful dream,
who hawking flowers
one day in April
I remember through the streets of Paris.
A red rose for you,
red as the desire to love,
roses and white carnations,
white with illusion
and the princess follows her proclamation.

An affection and a carnation
for the buttonhole, for love.
The carnation is of illusion,
my red heart is punctuated.
And the afternoon was dying,
and the proclamation follows me.
A little love and a carnation,
only the carnation, what's left.

Little blond ivory princess,
where did your subtle laughter go,
along with your dead flowers
my illusion dies.
And I hear the faint echo of your voice.
It's like a whisper without ceasing,
that awakens my anxiety,
it is my crazy fantasy
that dreams again.
Again I am happy with your singing.