Most of the hours that remained Were filled with love For most of the days that escaped us She was with me and I was with her In most of the songs that filled the room I was a raging storm And what is left at the end from the break For most of the time is the silence In most of the escapes and bursts of anger I remember a frigid wind In most of the winds and storms At days end she returned In most of the songs, still remember her face Touching Not touching And a tear of silence Through most of the tears, The room's reflection As if commanding her life to end in bed There are days left And they are many And they are hers And there are hours that are filled entirely with her scent And most of the time she remained An when she wasn't weeping One way Or another I remain hers