Those low walls of lava stone
They reach the sea and from here
He passed through every now and then
A bather in the summer
Sciara delle Ginestre exposed to the sun
I still pass mine time
To observe the sunsets and see them change
After dark
And the heart when it becomes evening
It dies of love
It doesn't want to believe it
It's better to be alone
Courtyards and ancient wells
Among the pomegranate trees
Norman style churches
And an old police barracks
The years go by
/>And the time for reasons is going away
To discover that I am not yet mature
In the Second Dusk
And the heart when it becomes evening
It dies of love
He doesn't want to convince himself that it's nice to live alone

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