Not much is time, which is also little,
because nobody has known what a star takes
although all know what it takes one thing.
Our love for one night was a great little love
they rolled down the shade as a die with no luck,
but no one has known what a dream
hard but we all know what hard death.
One night is eternal for not forget it,
and time for sleep does not matter: the flower,
and as no one knows what a hard life, no one knows what
lasting love. José Ángel Buesa
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