Maybe I was a demon in my previous life,
now I’m just a mortal
who plays, breathes and laughs;
maybe I am the angel who stumbles and fall,
cause their lazy wings never learned to fly.
When I found your shadow on that rainy night,
your black curly hair, your smiling eyes,
your sweet, tempting lips and your strong arms,
they made me feel lost in a feverish sight.
I don’t know if then I still was divine,
but I think at that moment you made me be one
of the Olympic goddesses: stupid, selfish, proud;
so much that I wanted then you were mine
even knowing well that it was so bad.
And I love the enchantment of your sweet dark eyes:
I followed right away when you took my hand,
And you taught me how to fly for the first time:
my wings, suddenly healthy, were no longer afraid
even when I knew well I was going to fall.
And yes, I fell, it was inevitable that my body would crash,
but, still shattered, on my lips there was a smile
for the devil who made me live a mortal life,
in which only today exists and we must seize the now,
in which we enjoyed each other, sure that it could be the last time.