Piedras Y Flores

I can hear your voice, in the deserted square.
No longer do the flowers grow
to make the wreath
that crowns your name
on festive days.

And when they go to break your heart,
under the flags
think of me...
Maybe I need your love
to moisten my lips.
Maybe I need your love
to sweep some corner in my diary of a common soldier...
Maybe I need your love...

The Sun has risen
on the beaches of Azenha.
Where the waves die
among flowers and stones.

Then, no one will break your heart,
under the flags
think of me...
Maybe I need your love
to moisten my lips.
Maybe I need your love
to sweep some corner in my diary of a common soldier...
Maybe I need your love...