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Son poche le finestre, amore,
che s’aprono sul mondo,
ma da una sovente
m’affaccio alle tue cose,
che sono mie adesso.
Ne indago il mistero ancora,
me ne prendo cura,
e i tuoi palloncini colorati,
me ne raccontano tuttora.

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Few are the windows, sweetie,
That open on the world,
but at one I often appear
looking at your things,
which are mine now.
I look into their mystery,
I take care of them,
and your colored balloons
still tell me their story.