Walk slowly, they're holding hands
the mature love, the sincere love.
He, perhaps some eighty years,
She, little more than seventy.
The love germinates in their eyes,
their intertwined hands prove it.
They walk looking their eyes,
She and He!
Hearts beating to the rhythm of weary years;
no longer they need voices, are understood
they are discovered, they guess.
He, loves her, with that mature love
love that has waged, thousand battles.
She faithful to the love, looks for its lap,
and thus, kiss on kiss in every glance
they walk with tired steps.
Their withered bodies don't know time
their affectionate look says everything.
silhouettes, Lovers wandering
Which matter time; when loves itself with the eyes!
She seems to say him; look out!
There is a slope on the sidewalk.
He stops, for a moment,
holding to the beloved:
One I love you reflects in his lips;
love, as mine, late love,
My love., without you I am a defeat.
I love you for what you represent,
I love you because your voice is my existence.
They walk slowly, slowly intertwined;
They do not care about fashion,
or the color of their costumes.
they love each other without voices, their love is immaculate.
He seems to say; Wait a little, sweetheart!
I need the touch of your hand;
this tired heart,
It resists to beat, under the shadow of oblivion.
I need to look at you a bit,
I need love, to breathe the aroma of your greyish hair.
She looks at him tenderly: oh! my love don't be afraid,
nothing will be able to separate us.
The time will call us one day,
and nevertheless;
these souls that inhabit us, will keep on loving.
She and He!
they walk looking their eyes,
hearts beating to the rhythm of weary years;
no longer they need voices;
they are understood, they guess,
they are discovered, in tired steps.
They look with tenderness at the eyes;
two hearts beating interlaced,
They love with the look,
while they get lost in tired years.
They love each other! with this mature love,
with this endless love.
