Our lives intertwine quietly,
we sleep in a very tight embrace,
yet each of us sits on his own mountain top,
looking at the other with a long love.
If you were to tell me something,
you’d probably tell me you love me more.
From the flood of words on my tongue
I feel none of it to be holy.
Is there a point to build a bridge
between mankind and the moon,
which is getting darker because of our fight
with the child’s imperfection?
I know I can’t lose you, and I can’t abandon
your wide warm hands,
but there is so much distance between us,
that only night can erase it.
We can’t do anything in front of destiny,
but to bow our heads confiding that all
is considered with mathematical precision,
and no blackbird departs
before writing a song for You.