Two fri­ends,
sit­ting on a park mea­dow — no one repents.
A news­pa­per is moving on the grass.
Silence bet­ween them, the radio is play­ing jazz,
the radio of the two friends. 

Two fri­ends,
the young girl and the young man.
Sounds of the city are blo­wing through the trees.
Satur­day lies heavy in the air and weighs upon the knees
of the two friends.

Two fri­ends,
having enough time for confidence,
having enough time for innocence.
The world is spin­ning round and round, round and round,
around the two friends.

Two fri­ends…
“Oh, what a time it was, what a time it was,
long ago, it must be long ago.
I have some pho­to­graphs.” (Pre­ser­ving the memory
of the two friends.)