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Time has passed, like a serene river,
whispering secrets on the shore of sleep.
You never imagined, in the dance of years,
to arrive at this moment, at my side.
I know that life, alien and merciless,
has not been a path of golden flowers.
You felt the emptiness, and the torn echo,
when hope turned on one side.
No one stayed, after the raging storm,
when the sky wept and the soul aggravated.
But here I am, at this divine crossroads,
a beacon in the fog, a genuine refuge.
Let's hold hands, even if the fingertips hurt,
each furrow in your skin, they are stories, they are themes.
At your side I stay, in shared silence,
feeling that at least you're never hurt.