Diaspora 60

Let’s lie down, let’s laugh
Naked at dawn
‘M’ with ‘u’,
Woman, land of the beginning
Endless scent of you,
Of your essence being ten.
My God, a game where someone

Writes a letter to whom we cry for.
We always cry
Why in the end
There’s no worse knife than the one there
Shot through my heart
And your childhood? I can’t stop thinking about that
What are you doing
So desperate
And so late
Tell me where is
Your butterfly?

I smell that purple
And we couldn’t go on
That’s what we were going to talk about
When it rains long in ‘73
When it rains long in ‘73
Dirty bloody hole in the sun
We ate death, we cried plague
Super flumina babilonic
Ilic sidimus et fleminus
A knife for a lyre
A condor for an archangel

The vinegar of the crazies suffocates
Sing now, we will overcome
And then... stars, what?
More music, more music
Shoot me now
Shoot me now

I smell that purple
And we couldn’t go on
That’s what we were going to talk about
When it rains long in ‘73
When it rains long in ‘73

At first, we fell face down
We carried big stones from
One dawn to another
Slowly my eyes go
Smelling the horror, laughing
You’re all grown up, my son
As usual

The poverty is made
From so much looking to paralyze
Like from Beijing to Berlin
And from rotation to translation
That’s why I call myself old-young
The one who plays with the bite
Own light of the world
Own light of the world

The meter of measuring death
Was then the absolute
That one has around
Between arrogance and freedom
Which days of which
Six times ten looking in the mirror
Which days of which
Six times ten looking in the mirror

It rains, it rains, it rains
Six times ten
Close your eyelids
And say it again
It rains, it rains, it rains