He has not gone to work for two weeks,
Two sad weeks without drinking it in passing.
From my window I only see the warehouse,
the empty street that has not flowered again.
And she still does not pass with her sweet smell of heaven and loneliness.
And my rose is bored what happened little girl,
that your absence has hurt me?
Next to the stove I think,
reading comics of love without end.
That fever is an excuse,
You wanted to get sick to rest.
And dream and dream,
to be, closer to the sun.
Little sparrowth worker looking for his heat ...
Two weeks ago, Analía look at me,
Two long weeks without your coffee eyes.
Father Francisco can not wait any longer,
who will decorate the altar with alelíes.
And your flowers without returning,
to put springs to the faith.
Who will cure us of love, perfumed forget-me-nots,
And the one who buys already forgot.
Next to the stove I think,
reading love stories without end ..
That fever is an excuse,
You wanted to get sick to rest.
And dream and dream,
to be closer to the sun
Little sparrowth worker looking for his heat ...
Only among all we can make this a better place :)