what is this vast city
what is this night
where we are born
our fingers covered with stars
with courageous shoes
we walk along
a fragment of a second
and tomorrow is a conversation
more beautiful 
more red than the others
where nothing finishes
I am in love with silence
and with every other sound
I am in love with the city
the line of my horizon
shines
like bars of steel 
like a wire that needs cutting
in order not to stop 
ever
knives are made to cut
guns to kill
eyes to watch
us to walk
and the earth is round
round 
round
like my head
and like desire
there are many beautiful things
flowers
trees
the touch of hands
all that is known
and isn't
better to hold a postcard
in your right hand
and nothing in your left
only a little fresh air
and sometimes a cigarette
in your heart
desire is a bell
and I am here again
I listen I walk
like a telephone like an inkwell made of paper
I listen I wait 
the sun capsizes each day
in your eyes
we sit together at the top of the hotel
and the city burns beneath us
your eyes
in the silence
I grow old very slowly 
I do not need to think about it too much 
a landscape makes me happy
and a bookshelf
I listen and I obey
I say a word a boat leaves
a train takes some people away
it has no importance
it has so much importance
tomorrow
already the signs have changed
smoke announces your skin
I listen to the sea at the end of the horizon
the voice of a friend
miles away
I am the connoisseur of air
and of long lines of railway track
the friend of blood
and of the earth
I know these things
I can hold them in my hands
there is only setting out
in the evening in the morning
there is only the first footstep
which is sometimes a little tiresome
a little heavy
there is only the sky
only the wind
there is only the heart
and everything that waits
and everything that doesn't
a flower speaks in a language
ours hands can understand
it whispers see you again see you again see you again
and the city lies down in our heads
like a crown