I know places which breathe
the air of time, the memories
the experiences
we go there to drink
and leave it for what it is
a shield
Those who unknowingly enter bring with them,
and leave behind at the time of their departure,
their thoughts
which stick to the walls and furniture
they seem to leave and then want
to stay
In these places, I love what's behind
the scenes once your glasses
are served
I play for the petty criminal
who walks his opinel (knife)
into your lives
Open your eyes because wherever I go
I leave behind me nicks
and scratches
and the rubble that remains
helps to fill my sadness
my cracks
Who has been in my shoes?
will I leave traces?
Me too! Me too!
that's why I spend my spare time
engraving "I was here" everywhere
Traces of first meetings
the kind that make our cheeks red
and eyelashes
beating the air like butterflies
lifting into a whirlwind
the dust
All this spreads and gives
maybe not quite a cyclone
reaching as far as China
but leaves in the surrounding air
a shiver which runs through
our spine
When we were in school
already sticking our chewing-gum
under the chairs
later, the very first wooden shoes
and addition on the bark
of an old oak
These minor offenses
will never prevent an eternal
holiday
but these hearts and rectangles
are in a way our
maternal language
that's to say...
Who came before me?
Will I leave traces behind?
Me too! Me too
that's why I occupy my free time
etching "I was here" everywhere I go
Who was at my place?
Will I leave behind evidence?
Me too! Me too!
that's why I spend my free time
writing "I was here" everywhere