I'm weary and a wanderer of the town of sorrow,
My night is darker than all nights,
Life is a cold prison of grudges,
In my heart are the scars of a thousand stabs,
What would it be like if those small and warm hands,
Stroked my head, caressing,
My lonely and cold bed,
Was set on fire with a warm kiss,
What would it be like if in our small house,
The flowers of sorrow never bloomed,
What would be it like if nobody abandoned me,
Except god, no one was left alone,
I am still a wanderer of the town of sorrow,
My night is darker than all nights,
Life is a cold prison of grudges,
In my heart are the scars of a thousand stabs,