She was 18 years old
Hair in the wind
The line of a swan
Which unfolded its wings
She had the accents
Of a bird singing
And all the musicians
Turned around on her
She had all the brilliance
Of that century
Where the waltz was queen
Where love was king
In a sky of lace
Irreal
She walked his hands
On a harpsichord
And Chopin liked her
Chopin found her beautiful
All he had to do was smile
To do it to write
Listen to the preludes
That he composed for her
I dreamed of her so much
Spoke with her
That often
I think I am her
She is my ideal
The biggest star
And I want to look like
Her faithful portrait
There is only her
And she is my model
She was 18 years
Hair in the wind
The magic of madness
That we did for her
It was the most beautiful
I would like to Be her