If I were special, if I were a magazine
I'd have the courage to cross the wagon
And ask you: who are you?
You sit down in front of me and you can't even imagine
That I'm wearing, for you, my prettiest skirt
And when I see you yawning into the glass
My pupils are flooded
Suddenly you look at me, I look at you and you sigh
I close my eyes, you avert your eyes
I barely breathe, I become tiny
And I start to tremble
And so the days go by, from Monday to Friday
Like the swallows in Bécquer's poem
From station to station, in front of you and me
Silence comes and goes
Suddenly you look at me, I look at you and you sigh
I close my eyes, you avert your eyes
I hardly breathe, I become tiny
And I start to tremble
And then it happens, my lips wake up
They utter your name in a stutter
I guess you think: what a silly girl
And I want to die
But time stands still and you come closer saying
"I don't know you yet and I already missed you
Every morning I refuse the direct
And I choose this train"
And we're coming, my life has changed
A special day this March eleventh
You take my hand, we reach a tunnel
That turns off the light
I find your face, thanks to my hands
I become brave and kiss you on the lips
You say you love me and I give you
The last breath of my heart

Las fotos son de mi autoría y editadas en Canva y la traducción al inglés por Deepl

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