Podré Olvidar

Years may pass
and forget the fields where I played yesterday.
I will be able to forget my verses
that I wrote in that school yesterday.
I will be able to forget
the day of the party in my place,
that feeling of freedom,
the Sunday afternoon.

But I will never be able to forget
that first love,
that was sincere, that was true.
But I will never be able to forget
that first love,
that was sincere, that was true.

That old town that slept in the sun
may be very far away.
I will be able to forget the time
when defying the wind I felt older.
I will be able to forget
the nap hours in the attic,
my box of paints
and my desire to be a poet one day.

But I will never be able to forget
that first love,
that was sincere, that was true.
But I will never be able to forget
that first love,
that was sincere, that was true.

I will be able to forget my shadow
that occasionally taught me to play.
I will be able to forget my name
that despite being poor, I liked to carry.
I will be able to forget
the caress of the wind that passing by
left every afternoon on my doorstep
the autumn leaves.

But I will never be able to forget
that first love,
that was sincere, that was true.
But I will never be able to forget
that first love,
that was sincere, that was true.