Traducir a
The olive trees give up
The grapes turn red from the nose
And the sand has become cold
In the white sun
Master bathers and seasonal workers
Return to their real jobs
And the figures will be sculpted
Before Christmas
It's September
When summer puts on its shoes
And the beach is like a womb
That no one touched
It's September
That my country can breathe
Country of my young years
Where my father is buried
My school was heated
In the bright sun
In May, I'm leaving
And I leave you to strangers
To go abroad myself
Under other skies
But in September
When I return to where I was born
And that my beach recognizes me
Opens my bride's arms
It's September
That I have a happy new year
It's September
When the sailboats are revealed
And the beach trembles under the shadow
Of an unbronzed autumn
It's September
That we can live for real
But in September
When I return to where I was born
And that my beach recognizes me
Opens my bride's arms
It's September
That I have a happy new year
It's September
That I have a happy new year
It's September
That I fall asleep under the olive tree
Ver letras en otros idiomas
