She slept,
with the rhythm of the masses, at its warmth.
And I woke up,
wanting to dream of her.
Some time in the past
I thought about writing to her
and I never avoided
the pitfalls of love.

Listen love,
The sound of light music, nothing else frees us and nothing else remains.

I will not send her crumbs of roses
nor shall I avoid
a secret contact

Oh that love of light music, nothing else freed us and nothing else remained