the locomotives the boats
and the salubrious wind and the clouds
I simply give them up
my heart's too small
or too big
and my life's short
I don't know exactly what day I'll die
but I'm aging
I'm going down the quotidian steps
letting a prayer loose from my lips
Is that a friend who waits for me at each floor
is that a thief
is that me
I don't know how to see more in the sky
than a lone star a lone cloud
as far as my sadness or my joy goes
I don't know how to hang my head anymore
is it too heavy
As for my hands I don't know either
if I'm holding soap bubbles or cannonballs
I'm waking
I'm aging
but my red blood my dear red blood
traverses my veins
driving ahead the present's memories
but my thirst's too big
I still stop and wait
for light
Paradise paradise paradise