Whichever times I have imagined to you in my dreams

Too many times I feel like brush your hands

And your fingers, so long, thin and smooth

They are the object of my nervousness, my brief madness.

I have seen and you the eyes, and your… you have caressed my face

While then my smile, without wanting it, is drawn

The pleasant feeling and the desire to be with you but time awake like boy, when listening a storm thunderclap in dawn and feel then as you embrace to me and are so happy

But little by little,

I begin to be aware to me that

I am in bed that my quarter this, that the light already shines, that… finally wide-awake

My happy and pleasant feeling, only becomes a dream

And the first hours that morning… will be difficult

Then I will be disillusioned, I will know that those moments

That they illuminated and they gave to sense life,

They never happened,

I will tend that to accept it, and to walk to support like, over the years, the happiness that one dream I leave myself

It is stained, losing the vitality

And while the night approaches more my supposed happiness,

is darkened to the dusk