The feast day is past, with its noise, its music, the shouting of the people happy, sweet, the band, dinner with the whole country.
There were colored confetti on the ground, the corn scattered on the streets, the grumbling of some melancholy that lingers to return home, and magic, such as fog, with the first water droplets, vanishes into the sky.
There remained the mountains, the trees, which are colored orange, the first snow-capped peaks, and rain, which washes away the last memories.
While I fall asleep, curled up on the car seat and you drive by my side, the rain starts to overwhelm, while the wipers crazy trying in vain to sweep it away.
Everything is gone, once again, indefinitely, while you are always by my side, motionless, unmoved, in the rain.
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