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Before you fall in love with me,
you should know that I still hold in my breast,
a melody left by the wind,
a distant echo, an old waste.
I wait for the night, the whisper of the air,
that serenade that makes me lean out,
through the window, where the moon shines,
while you sing, though you sing out of tune,
with a voice between dreams, full of madness.
Just come with the breeze of a sincere verse,
with the flute of the soul and a true love,
and if at last you decide, even if you're out of tune,
I'll be the one who listens to your clumsy destinies.
But remember, before you go forward,
that in the silence my being still dreams,
of the perfect note that will make me fly,
And so, in glory, let me be loved.