Fado Triste

Go on, setting sun
just leave and don’t come back
without bringing in the first ray
news of those who are gone
on a bitter, sad dawn
a ship with its bow held high
took everything I kept

In the hidden box of feelings
in the memories of objects
that decorated my room
everything loses its color, shape, and scent
only forgotten things remain
of the importance they once had

I always return to the river
on Fridays to remember
carefree days, aimless nights
I hope the ship always wants
to bring back the whisper
of your footsteps
on a street in Lisbon