Around us,
The empty tables,
Whisper tales,
Tales about dances they've seen,
About hands they've touched.
Above us,
The ceiling watches
Watches the footsteps,
You left on the floor,
Shaped in little flowers
With the colors of a painter.
Next to us,
An old chair
Invites you to sit,
To claim your rest
And enjoy,
A timely kiss.
The glasses topple
Of joy and drunkenness,
Because you're blushing
To turn into a red apple.
The hall is quiet,
It fills with echoes,
From our depths,
From our passion.
The windows open
To receive a guest,
The Moon itself,
In shiny yellow dress.
We stand still,
On the old chair,
The cries of pain
And trouble in the chest.
So beautiful this Lady was,
So charming and yet so cold.
A gentle voice,
Then we suddenly heard:
To love your queen
As if she were
Your most beautiful dream.
Lady Moon,
Gave us Her blessing
And the house,
With everything in it,
Began to sing
I love you, I love you, I promise.