If i didn’t believe in the madness
Of the neck of the bird “sinsonte”
If i didn’t believe that in the mountain
Is hiding the trill and the dread
If i didn’t believe in the scales
In the reason of balance
If i didn’t believe in the delirium
If i didn’t believe in the hope
If i didn’t believe in what i achieve with skill
If i didn’t believe in my road
If i didn’t believe in my sound
If i didn’t believe in my silence
What would be
What would be the mallet without quarry (to cut out stone)
A mix made of ropes and tendons
A mess of flash with wood
An instrument without better gleams
Than small lights getting on to the scene
What would be- my heart- what would be
What would be the mallet without quarry (to cut out stone)
A figurehead of the traitor of the applauses
A servant of the past in new cup
A perpetuator of declining goddesses
An exultation boiled with cloth and sequin
What would be- my heart- what would be
What would be the mallet without quarry (to cut out stone)
What would be- my heart- what would be
What would be the mallet without quarry (to cut out stone)
If i didn’t believe in the most cruel
If i didn’t believe in the desire
If i didn’t believe in what i believe
If i didn’t believe in something pure
If i didn’t believe in every wound
If i didn’t believe in what comes around
If i didn’t believe in what hides behind
Making oneself brother with life
If i didn’t believe in whoever listens to me
If i didn’t believe in what hurts
If i didn’t believe in what stays
If i didn’t believe in what fights
What would be…