Prendi Questa Mano, Zingara

Take this hand, gypsy, tell me what future I will have.
Now that the wind carries the leaves around and the rain makes the bonfires smoke.
And there's one who says Look! One who says Where?, one who says Who knows.
And there's water that's still, water that moves, water that goes away.
Take this gypsy hand, read it as much as you want.
Read it until the end, read it as you can.
Take this gypsy hand, tell me how much life there is.
How many years will time be made of, and what will time seem like.
Will they be machines or blades of grass?
Will they be numbers to remember.
Will they be boats to repaint,
will they be trees to plant.
Take this hand, gypsy. Tell me how the darkness is.
The night is long to cross, make room for me close to you.
Your eyes shine in the dark.
Your mouth and your fingers speak.
Your overturned ring lights up.
In the light of the sign of the hotel in front
your teeth and your back shine
while your senses sparkle in the darkness.

Take this hand, gypsy. Make room for me close to you.
The night is long to cross, make room for me close to you.
Your eyes smile in the shadow
your cards open, our hands mix.
And the present and the infinite in the dark blend,
while your senses respond, in the vastness.