When everyone says the opposite,
pursuing the right and comfortable escape,
I remain motionless, listening to the heart,
while all look at the facts,
I'm still looking for the moon,
because just look at the finger,
would not help me, like you, just at not wanting to see more.
And if the tears are and will be,
the only river that I can bring to you,
I will follow this like a salmon: on the contrary,
crying what that there i need to cry
swimming until the end of my strength.

Why does not help the anger,
if not to make an effort to forget,
trying to delete pages and pages
of our lives and an uncomfortable memory,
being guided by pride,
son of a god blind and cowardly,
whose lancets continue to run
so as not to look back,
because sooner or later, on any day,
will stop at that moment,
where before there was love,
and at that time only the shadow of a regret.