I’m walking down a familiar road
Maybe sometime this road will be called differently.
Some Rolls-Royce drives past, further, somewhere
Ahead of where I’m going.
Someone’s calling me in a familiar language
And I’m going ahead, maybe I’ll even shout with joy.
Under two flags my time goes by.
Nothing around me is fresh any more.
I’m walking down a familiar road
Maybe someone else in my place would not go there.
But I believe and I hope—this road will once be called differently.
The same one that maybe the Rolls-Royce is driving down.
Maybe right from it, in a language familiar to me, someone
Will call me.