You're afflicted, like me, with a bird's journey and this happens in the afternoon, when you say: Take me to the river you foreign man, to the river take me my road upon your banks is long And we listen to what pedestrians say on the bridge:
"I have other things to do"
"I have a place on the ship"
"I have a share in life"
"And as for me, I must catch the subway I am late for memories and for the saxophone lesson, and my night is short"
We listen to what hidden longing for a mysterious street is in us: I have my life over there my life that caravans made then went on their way, and here I have my life as my bread's worth and my questions about a destiny a passing present tortures, and I have a beautiful chaotic tomorrow
Echo for echo: who of us said those words, me or the foreign woman? No one can return to another. Eternity performs its manual chores out of our lives then thrives ..
So let love be an unknown, and the unknown a kind of love. How strange to believe this and still love! Because
