O Último Boêmio

I believe to be the last bohemian
Who is still faithful to tradition
And sees in applause as a coveted prize
A dilettante of love and song

I embedded the sky with songs
I sang longing in every streetlight
I left tenderness in so many hearts
But I forgot my own heart

I feel vibrating bass notes inside me
I have in my chest an eternal madrigal
I remember the flower picked in the moonlight
The prize that the bohemian has after singing

I have no complaints nor do I make restrictions
If I was a bohemian, I was also a friend
But I cry knowing that when I die
The last bohemian will die with me