So close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my sleep.

Before loving you, love, nothing was mine:
I hesitated through the streets and things:
nothing mattered or had a name:
the world was of the air that I awaited.

Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

We must dream our way.

Hoy es hoy, y ayer se fue. No hay duda.