She didn’t like my two-roomed flat;

You who travels, if you bump into her one day,

Come back to tell me, come back to tell me.

Tell me if she still wears

Fragrances of love in her hair,

And all my dreams on her lips.

But, promise me,

Don’t come too close:

If you put your fingers

Upon the bronze of her skin,

You become crazy, you become crazy.

Without being careful,

I squeezed her tightly;

Still today,

My eyes burn, burn.

 

She, she’s at the age of the long-term journeys,

Arabic princes and marriages of love,

Free slaves, stories to be continued…

Me, I came home frequently on alternate evenings,

And my friends were curious people,

Difficult to follow; tell her, I’m relearning to live.

But promise me

Don’t come too close:

If you put your fingers

Upon the bronze of her skin,

You become crazy, you become crazy.

Without being careful,

I squeezed her tightly;

Still today,

My eyes burn, burn.

 

She didn’t like my two-roomed flat;

You who travels, if you bump into her one day,

Come back to tell me, come back to tell me.

Tell her that for her I would give

My last breath and even the one after…