Charles Aznavour
Composição: Charles Aznavour / Herbert Kretzmere


She may be the face I can’t forget,

A trace of pleasure or regret,

May be my treasure or

The price I have to pay.

She may be the song that summer sings,

May be the chill that autumn brings,

May be a hundred different things

Within the measure of a day.

She may be the beauty or the beast,

May be the famine or the feast,

May turn each day into a

Heaven or a hell.

She may be the mirror of my dream,

A smile reflected in a stream,

She may not be what she may seem

Inside her shell.

She who always seems so happy in a crowd

Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,

No one’s allowed to see them

When they cry.

She may be the love that cannot hope to last,

May come to me from shadows of the past,

That I’ll remember till the day I die.

She may be the reason I survive,

The why and wherefore I’m alive,

The one I’ll care for through the

Rough and ready years.

Me, I’ll take her laughter and her tears

And make them all my souvenirs

For where she goes I’ve got to be.

The meaning of my life is she, she, she–.


by Patty


Published in: on 24/07/2009 at 7:30 am  Deixe um comentário  

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