A strange world
Full of swing and jazz
Of pain and glass
On the bus of whose dream
I can never forget
Tell me you’re from here, shout that you get me.
That in the singing of a child all is over
to whom escape from the torment, from the burden of living
my griefs and lamentations,
please be gone,
that in the cries of my mother
the night lulls me to sleep
let me breathe!
Not to hear her cries
neither mine
play the music loud, but burn my timpani
I don’t want to listen to you no longer,
nor feel my heartbeat,
only the rhythm of a song:
twelve one two … I forgot!
-three four five… where am I!_