Penelope,
with its brown leather bag
and her heels,
and her Sunday dress.
Penelope,
sits on a bench in the platform
and wait for the first train to arrive
wagging the fan.
They say in the village that a walker stopped
his watch one spring afternoon.
Goodbye, my love, do not cry me, I'll be back
before the leaves fall from the willows ...
Think of me, I'll come back for you ...
poor unhappy,
your child watch stopped
an April leaden afternoon,
when your lover went
It withered
in your garden until the last flower,
there is no willow on the main street
for penélope.
Penelope,
sad by dint of waiting,
his eyes seem to shine
if a train whistles in the distance.
Penelope,
one after the other he sees them go by,
look at their faces, hear them talk,
for her they are dolls.
They say in the village that the traveler returned,
He found her in her green pine bench.
He called her: & quot; penélope, my faithful lover, my peace,
stop weaving dreams in your mind ...
look at me, I'm your love, I came back ... & quot;
I smiled
with the full eyes of yesterday,
it was not like that his face or his skin:
& quot; you are not who I expect ... & quot;
And he stayed
with its brown leather bag
and her high-heeled shoes
sitting in the station
Only among all we can make this a better place :)