We were five. You had a plaid dress and your hair...it was in two
braids instead of one. My father pointed you out while we were waiting
to line up. He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her
mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.' And I said, 'A coal miner?
Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said,
'Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.' So that day, in
music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand
shot right up in the air. She put you up on a stool and had you sing it
for us. And I swear, ever bird outside the windows fell silent. And
right when your song ended, I knew -just like your mother- I was a
goner.
Lembro-me vagamente de uma história qualquer sobre a tua avó a lavar roupa e o teu avô a ouvir cantar e apaixonar-se.
E também eu sei de cor cada pormenor do momento em que me apaixonei pela tua voz. And
right when your song ended, I knew -just like your grandfather - I was a
goner.
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