My mother has a dead rose
Long dead
Next to my father's portrait.
And, my one,
Next to the corpse of love
Has Memory too
Withered, faded.
As if my caresses have
Drowned the reminiscence
I am a dead rose
Long dead
lying by your portrait.
My soul, my life has slowly left
Only dry petals, sensitive to the touch
So they crumble with every breath
Next to my corpse
Has your love
Withered, faded.