The ships are waiting; soon they will embark on their course
But they will return due to bad weather
Six months will pass and Iíll reappear,
Again to depart, to depart for six months.
Everyone comes back, except your true friends,
Except the beloved and most faithful of women,
Everyone comes back except those who are missed.
I do not trust fate, and much less myself.
Still, I want to think that this is not so,
That soon it will go out of style to burn ships behind you.
Of course, Iíll return, full of friendship and hope,
Of course, I will sing and sing on let but six months pass.