What I did,
I would do it again—
no regrets—
I would love you.
Like the wind blowing,
like the stormy sea,
like a holiday,
I would love you.
If you were born again,
I would do it again—
and if you met me again,
I would love you—
precisely because I just cannot manage
regretting you.
Time dwells within my faults
and in the hypocrisy of the rules.
Like the wind, an embrace,
an ice-blue sky,
like a tear, a kiss,
I would not live over again.
If you were born one more time,
I would do it over.
And if you meet me again,
I would love you.
And if I had another life,
I would live it over again.
And even if I was a bit different,
I would follow you
precisely because I just cannot manage
regretting you.