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My sorrows, my joys,
my sadness and loneliness,
my lost illusions
and a way to go.
Sometimes I ask the wind
And he doesn't want to listen to me.
The wind continues its march;
I stay and he leaves.
The street where I played
My youth of my dream:
A cigarette in secret
A Sunday without playing.
Sometimes I ask the wind
And he doesn't want to listen to me.
The wind continues its march;
I stay and he leaves.
When I pass by the street
and they look at me as they pass
I know those same people
They will forget me.
The lights have gone out
with the final applause,
and those who love me so much today
Tomorrow they will make me cry.
Sometimes I ask the wind
And he doesn't want to listen to me.
The wind continues its march;
I stay and he leaves.
Sometimes I ask the wind
And he doesn't want to listen to me.
The wind continues its march;
I stay and he leaves.
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