So simple we are so innocent…
we can see objects, things; receive and send feelings, from people to others.
We can experience many things and teach many people
we're led by something when we're acting-just like everyone.
We can feel love or throw it away
(we can feel pain, sometimes great.)
We say easily that we know many things…
Friends come and change later, refuse us, become good pals of others.
We are also invisible: we live behind our own face, isolated from the others,
Nobody knows the hidden parts of our soul.
We judge others they judge us,
we disapprove if they act differently.
… and some thoughts
that go through my mind after all that has happened
or maybe while it's happening.
I just tease myself, because I don't know what to do with them.
And have you lived, if you haven't seen
stars diving into the sky by the lake's shore,
and Webber's song screaming into your ears
the clearest feelings that music can carve…
I think I understood deeply then and there
the word-covered things told by my tale's main character…
In fact, I don't want to teach…
Selfish intentions lead me, when I'm telling you
what happened in a small country, because I hope
my soul lets me have a rest and I can treat all the things
that happened to me and still they're happening.
Just listen: a beautiful tale it is…
Maybe I'd done something before I died,
that's important, that matters much, that will help later…
It may fail or win, but I must finish
the things I got, hushing and swinging the winds of centuries…
If I tell you now, maybe then you will understand what occurs in me.
These thoughts change my life,
but they may not matter while all these things happen.
