Nothing kills a poem faster than a translation, but here goes:
That time in the middle of a crowd I say for the sheet of paper my feelings And I make them your song Hardly remembering all the moments
I make an effort to say a "Hello" I make an effort to be able to see you Simple as I always was I love you
If I don't have you with me Everything is suddenly so exquisite Nothing makes sense You have in your hands my departed heart
I talk for the stars, without repenting They smile reflecting the shining of your face Simple as I don't tire of saying it I am always going to love you.