Penélope

Penelope, with her brown leather bag
And her high-heeled shoes and her Sunday dress
Penelope sits on a bench on the platform
And waits for the first train to arrive, swaying her fan
They say in the village that a traveler
Stopped his watch one spring afternoon

Goodbye my love, don't cry for me
I'll be back before the willow leaves fall
Think of me, I'll come back for you

Poor unhappy one, your childhood watch stopped
On a gloomy April afternoon when your lover left
It withered in your garden until the last flower
There's no willow on Main Street for Penelope

Penelope, sad from waiting so long
Her eyes seem to shine if a train whistles in the distance
Penelope one after another sees them pass
She looks at their faces, hears them talk, to her they are dolls
They say in the village that the traveler returned
He found her on her green pine bench

He called her: Penelope, my faithful lover, my peace
Stop weaving dreams in your mind
Look at me, I am your love, I have returned

She smiled with eyes full of yesterday
Her face and skin were not the same
You are not who I am waiting for

And she stayed with her brown leather bag
And her little high-heeled shoes sitting at the station