Ιt is not Circe*,
the witch, the godess of sex,
Calypso*, Nausicaa*
with dad' s money.
It is not the sea, the sun,
the lost islands.
It's none of them
and it's all this...
It's your hidden, endless thirst
its the thirst that keeps you alive.
It's your hidden, endless thirst
it's your thirst for clean sky.
It's not the friends, the sitting up late nights
the cigaretes, the drinks
the musics, the musics
around the same fire.
Your old dreams, trips
with new sails.
It's none of them
and it's all this...
It's your hidden, ...
Your old victories and defeats
and correct mistakes.
Living in foreign places , living in foreign places
the joy of returning
and that someone waving at you
from the port , far
it's none of them
and it's all of them
It's your hidden, ...
For a sky,
that changes colours
and looks like a river,
like water.
Like the water
that you bend and drink,
but you don't erase the fire
you don't erase the (painful) yearning
for a sky...
It's your hidden, ...