Tanto

I read your old letters again,
that I have already read so much
and I find you again passionate
in the warm words
of the moment of love.
It is what remains of a past
made of tears and laughter,
with a desperate end
written by pain
and lack of love.

So much,
as much as we loved each other,
as much, as much as we dreamed,
as much as we have lived.
And suddenly,
worse than martyrdom,
worse than death
this terrible realization
that I have lost you,
that I'll never have you anymore.
So much,
as much as you were mine
as you will never in your life
you will never be anyone else's.

I keep your dearest things
because they keep something of you
it's like a little bit of your life
of your life and my life
of my dead loneliness.
But I know that there is nothing
to bring you back to my arms
and I'm like this, without hope,
waiting for nothing else, just waiting.