Retales de una vida

From the scraps of a life, a song emerges,
and from the shattered dreams in the heart
of that lost love, of which nothing remains.

From the lost battles, a winner emerges.
From the won battles, a loser emerges.
From the smiles to the wind, tears are shed.

And the memories in the air kiss my face.
I only remember the good, nothing of the bad.
There is still time for the wind, wherever it goes,
and may it carry me flying, to play another guitar.

From the great highs, there is always a low.
From the great friendships, there is always a traitor.
Of the major chords, the greatest and the smallest.

From the great occasions, some are better.
From the great losers, there is a winner.
If the best of the team, the heartbeat.

And the memories in the air kiss my face.
I only remember the good, nothing of the bad.
There is still time for the wind, wherever it goes,
and may it carry me flying, to play another guitar.

And the memories in the air.
I only remember the good.
There is still time for the wind.
And may it carry me flying, to play another guitar.