nowhere to go, and why on earth, and is there time;
the light romping on window-sill since the early bird morning,
where are you now, and who
is impossible to find or to know,
it is the same as to walk out in the street
or in darkness, kill a mosquito
so, like in that song, take my heart,
take it – wherever it is – my soul
where would this treasure be hoarded,
if not in your backpack;
this time the door of loneliness opens only outside;
Do come in. Be not silent.
It is you I have loved.
(i know Anton, this does not do it justice, but for the moment, this is all i can come up with. sorry.)