It seems that they are taking her
The leaves do not allow me to see
They are wearing her dressed in white
Hands crossed on her frozen chest
Nothing is left, only his voice
On a record that no one heard
He played the piano and sang
Mozart, Prokofiev and Ravel
And now with grandchildren in his house
The melodies They walked through the air
Nothing remains, only their voice
In a record that no one heard
Their song was forgotten
Their buried passion