The translation in English is something like this:
I Write To You
I write to you from the pavements of our cities dressed for Christmas
From a few winter's nights
With a bittersweet flavour
I write to you from these bright evenings
From the little girls' amazed eyes
Under a big fir tree on Fifth Avenue...
I write to you about a departure, a forgotten suitcase
I write to you from a white lake
Where this couple is skating
I am writing from a desert
Where a jetsam remembers the sea
I write to you from a land where houses tumble down
I write to you from Venice
Where lovers wake up at the sound of old bells
Maybe it'll snow again this year
I write to you from the sea along Gibraltar
Contemplating Tangier
I write to you from Africa where people die in thousands
From the four corners of the world
I write to you from the deserted trenches of the war
I write to you about a kiss, from this bench in Paris where two
Lovers are cuddling in their eternity, that nobody can disturb
The translation in English is something like this: I Write To You
I write to you from the pavements of our cities dressed for Christmas From a few winter's nights With a bittersweet flavour I write to you from these bright evenings From the little girls' amazed eyes Under a big fir tree on Fifth Avenue...
I write to you about a departure, a forgotten suitcase I write to you from a white lake Where this couple is skating I am writing from a desert Where a jetsam remembers the sea I write to you from a land where houses tumble down
I write to you from Venice Where lovers wake up at the sound of old bells Maybe it'll snow again this year I write to you from the sea along Gibraltar Contemplating Tangier I write to you from Africa where people die in thousands From the four corners of the world
I write to you from the deserted trenches of the war I write to you about a kiss, from this bench in Paris where two Lovers are cuddling in their eternity, that nobody can disturb
I write to you from a café, from the wing of a plane where our memories are cuddling in your eternity that nobody can take away from me I write to you from these skies of the fourth world, where the light bodies of malnourished children rise in silence I write to you from the street where people dance and sing I write to you with the pencil of a lonely old man in an empty room I write to you on behalf of these helpless gods in the name of whom some people kill I write to you from the hand of these peaceful men who never gave up I write to you from the Seine, the Eiffel Tower shines in glints from the past I write to you about the memories of thousands of kisses From the four corners of the workd, I'll go all around the world on a very ordinary day
I write to you from this dream in which I loved you so, I write, starry-eyed about so much humanity