From your window and from mine
The same garden is seen, the same view
And a whole day long I am allowed to love
The objects your eye has caressed
Across from your window and across from mine
At night the very same nightingale is singing
And when your heart is trembling in a dream
I too, wake up and listen to its beat
The old pine tree in which each needle
Carries your glance like pure morning dew
The old pine tree in which each needle
Greets me every morning
So many things we loved together
But at your window the light was not turned on
So many things we loved together
While my loneliness was touching yours
Enchanted we stood at the door's post
Planted in the silence of the space
Like a couple of happy trees
The blossom of the almond tree against the olive
tree's return
How have the rocks popped up in dew
How has the stone blossomed in the hills.
