My name is worn off Hieroglyph
My clothes are patched by the wind,
What I carry in my clenched palms
I won't be asked and I won't reply.
And as before the battle,
Decisive battle,
Standing at every crossing
In the sea of asphalt I see my shore,
My light blue scattering.
To all the questions I will quietly laugh
To all the questions there won't be a reply,
Since my name is Hieroglyph
My clothes are patched up by wind.