Dolça besada té gust que s'acaba, punt i principi de viure sense tu.

Sweet kiss that tastes like an ending, period and beginning of living without you. [Note: it’s a double sense because “period” or “full stop” in Catalan is called “dot and ending”, and here it’s literally saying “dot and beginning”.]

Jo no sabia que també me donaries manuals de geografia cent dillunsos a un dibuix.

I didn’t know that you would also give me geography manuals a hundred Mondays to a drawing.

Jo què sabia d'alens que se trobaven, de cabells que s'embullaven, de mans i de perfums.

What did I know, of breaths that found each other, of hair that tangled up, of hands and of perfumes.

Jo no sabia que en sa nit me tastaries, eren gustos que nedaven entre boques i racons.

I didn’t know that in the night you’d taste me, it was flavors that swam between mouths and corners.

Jo no sabia que després me mataria sa teva mirada que plora i diu que no.

I didn’t know that later I would be killed by your look that cries and says that it doesn’t.

I arriba un dia que sa vida és un teatre que se diu felicitat, primavera i Trinaranjus amb qui més has estimat, te regal sa meva vida i sense tu ja no me val.

And a day comes when life is a theatre play called happiness, spring and orange soda with those whom I loved the most, I give you my life as a present and without you, it’s not worth it anymore.

I s'horabaixa la deixam passar i me mires tan a prop que me fa mal, que surt es sol i encara plou, que t'estim massa i massa poc, que no sé com ho hem d'arreglar, que som amics, que som amants.

And we let the afternoon pass and you look at me from so close that it hurts me, that the sun comes out and it’s still raining, that I love you too much and too little, that I don’t know how can we mend this, that we’re friends, that we’re lovers.