Temps De Pluja

Any day at dusk behind the window, you feel its breath of autumn, sad and sweet like a cry that the wind brings close and knocks on the door. He sits at the table, you feel him there, no need to say a word, to know that the rainy days have come to an end, a time for quiet love, to gather what was thrown everywhere, it's the rainy days.
Gotta empty the closet again while the pages of the calendar fall silently, forgetting the boat at the dock, when love never ends nor does the beloved. He sits at the table, you feel him there, no need to say a word, to know that the rainy days have come to an end, a time for quiet love, to gather what was thrown everywhere, it's the rainy days. By the fire, there's room for both of us.