The flowers were more red in the days of yore,
a heart beat more wildly was beating
as there was not an end ...
Sighs were constants to feel the sweet presence,
the sun shone different in those days,
the weeks were long where we suffered yearnings
by unforgettable weekends ...
The music charmed as flight
butterflies, and unhurried innocent
in the gardens ...
The innocence and the discovery of the forbidden,
it was earning a world ...
Innocent passion and that feeling
they barely knew ...
Was the love that came in mind deflower
and our bodies without sins and guilts,
because we were two in the world,
because nothing longer existed ...
Only the music and our skins,
our instruments ...
For over there is nothing more was needed.
Amancio Mario Azevedo
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