Weāre different, you and me, weāre different
As if weāre made in different worlds indeed,
As if weāre fed on different dew furthermore,
As if weāre covered by different felt on creed.
Weāre strange, you and me, weāre strange.
We should go away in all directions, in whole,
Not to be for all, not to touch each other,
To be walled-up behind different walls at all.
Weāre crazy, you and me, weāre crazy.
Weāve tried to run away both so often.
But our fate has marked us with a ācancelā sign
And simply decided not let us go, just no one.
Weāre different, you and me, weāre different
As if bitter frost and caressing spring in other way.
We have different palettes, you and me, different palettes.
But the canvas is one, one for two of us, anyway.
And we have to paint our further life by the will of fate,
In four hands on one canvas therefore.
You know, I donāt like to paint and Iām not good at it.
Iāll better hold the palettes for you evermore.