Il Poeta

In the evening at the café with friends
We talked about women and cars
It was said: They are joys and sorrows
He cried and talked about you

If we went to the province to dance
We tried to have the most beautiful ones
He, he stayed counting the stars
He sighed and talked about you

At cards he was a true champion
They called him: The king of the neighborhood
But one evening playing cards
He lost a point talking about you

And finally one night he killed himself
Because of the great mental confusion
It was a shame because he was special
Just as he talked about you

Now they say he was a poet
And that he knew how to talk about love

What does it matter if in the end one dies
And can't talk about you anymore