Tonight the wind that knocks at my door
Speaks to me of dead loves
In front of the fire that goes out
Tonight it's an autumn song
br/>In the house that shivers
And I think of distant days
What remains of our loves
What remains of these beautiful days
A photo, old photo
Of my youth
What remains of the romantic notes
Of the months of April, of appointments
A memory that pursues me
Without ceasing
Faded happiness, hair in the wind
Stolen kisses, moving dreams
What remains of all this
Say- tell me
A small village, an old bell tower
A landscape so well hidden
And in a cloud the dear face
From my past
Words the tender words that we whisper
The purest caresses
The oaths in the depths of the woods
The flowers that we find in a book
Whose perfume you intoxicated
Did they fly away why?
What remains of our loves
What remains of those beautiful days
A photo, old photo
Of my youth
What remains of the romantic notes
Of the months of April, of the meetings
A memory that pursues me
Ceasingly< br/>

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