The fog that settles in the morning
The stones on the path
On the mountain
The hawk will rise
The first beam that will appear
The snow which will melt
Rushing to the sea...
The imprint of a head on a white pillow,
The waddle of the first steps of a child,
For the look which speaks, for a hand which will be held out
For the friend that you will meet
For all that, and what will come, I sing...
All the time, I sing...
For the children, I sing... for the lovers, I sing...
I run in the wind and sing
about my entire life and I sing
about spring and I sing
about my prayer and I sing
for those who will listen to me
I want to sing
Always sing
The little morning not yet awoken,
The first sounds outside, and the smell of coffee,
The elevator that doesn't work, my sleepy town in the cold
The woman from the café-tabac1 who will smile at me
The river water rippled by the wind
A little old man who walks lonely with small steps, and then the time which will pass,
The wheat which will ripen tomorrow, and the hand which will pick it,
For that, and for what will be, I sing...
All the time, I sing...
For the children, I sing...
For the lovers, I sing...
I run in the wind and sing
about the whole of life and I sing
about spring and I sing
about last night and I sing
for those who will listen to me
I want to sing
Always sing
To sing...
I sing... my hands in my pockets...
I sing... my voice rejoicing, and I sing...
about the entire life, and I sing...
The wind in my hair, I sing...
I sing... about my entire life, I sing...
I sing... for those who will listen to me...
For those who will listen to me... I sing...
1. A café which doubles as a tobacco shop which sells things like cigarettes, metro tickets etc.