I think of you,
through the streets of the town
I think of you,
when I look at the faces
through steamy windows
not knowing who they are, where they go...
I think of you
my love, I think of you
of you, compañera of my life
and of the future
of the bitter hours and the happiness
of being able to live
working at the beginning of a story
without knowing the end.
When the day's work is over
And the evening comes
Lengthening its shadow
Over the roofs we have made
And returning from our labour
Discussing among friends
Reasoning out things
Of this time and destiny
I think of you
my love, I think of you.
Of you, compañera of my life
and of the future,
of the bitter hours and the happiness
of being able to live,
working at the beginning of a story
without knowing the end.
When I come home
you are there
and we weave our dreams together...
Working at the beginning of a story
without knowing the end.
http://www.smokestack-books.co.uk/book.php?book=61
