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To your side
to your side, always to your little one,
always to the verita of yours,
Until I die of love.
Do not look at your eyes,
Do not knock on your door,
Do not tread at night,
the stones of your alley.
At your side, always at your little one,
always to the verita of yours,
Until I die of love.
Look what they say and say,
look that the afternoon that,
Look, he left and he came,
from his house to the mall.
And so looking and watching,
that's how my blindness began,
This is how my blindness began.
That he did not drink in your well,
that he did not swear on the fence,
that did not look with you,
the spring moon
They can nail daggers,
you can cross scissors,
can already cover with salt,
the bricks of your door.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow and always
eternally to your vera,
eternally to your vera
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