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My son went away on a paltry day
Initialing the final word at the beginning of summer
Forgetting, forgetting, twelve years of history
That we had woven
We'll no longer go to the woods, the paths of yesteryear
Where we used to run, are no longer practiced
The vast scrublands where he waged his war
Condemn all exits
Time, which waits for nothing, makes me close the page
Of the book of his life that was never finished
And his silence in me did great damage
In the face of eternity
He left me so alone, so ill in this context
That I find nothing more beautiful than heaven
Elsewhere is pointless and a mere pretext
To superficial taste
We were so happy to start a family
Even on the edge of torment, when he went out at night
Now I go alone and my steps are trifles
To the village without him
My son's gone, he's seen the reaper
As it passed by, he jumped up and followed it.
He was a spaniel of dubious origin
And his name was Roky...
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English (United Kingdom)