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My friend and I lost behind a wind
Of birds that change seasons
In an alley of skinny trees
And warm patches of sun
A priest and his black skirt
Fly happily after a balloon
My friend and I are waiting for the car
And all together they wait alone
And the girls laugh fresh
Like bunches of salad
A line on the blue skin of the sky
And heads raised like sunflowers
My friend and I at the terminus
Of usual sleepy people
And pensioners fold the newspaper
Big butt and calves
At the market stalls, women
Pieces of quick and colorful fabric
my friend thinks about his home
in a month he'll have to move
and in every corner he lived
he leaves a thorn of nostalgy
tomorrow we'll lenghten our stride
Each one behind the fortune
and we'll throw glances and stones
to try and catch the moon
tomorrow we'll have another face
and a city waiting outside
and we'll hold in our arms
remainders of loves
My friend and I, and a little cafe full of cheerful bored bitter people
The last tail of a stray dog
Among the construction sites of new buildings
A teacher plays in the courtyard
Smaller than her pupils
The friend and a single window
To contain the whole world
And a mirrored wardrobe with paper
And the memories put inside
He calms his heart with his hand
Which becomes rounder the more he uses it
my friend puts up the coffee kettle
and knows deep down
he won't be the same anymore
he studies his shoes and where the street is
tomorrow there'll be other people
different eyes and voices
and a heart to mark the slow hours
and the quick years
tomorrow we'll go a little more hurriedly
we'll catch breath again
in another cigarette and
tomorrow has passed
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