I wonder how a dead can travel
but I’m feeling you
All along my journey

Traveling from Asia to Europe,
I’ve always felt you in the clouds
Sometimes, in an train compartment
In the wind in Trieste,
And then saw you
Touch the sea, la mala

but I did not who you are
Until I found myself following two figures
Strolling off into the sunset

It’s easy to say it is making me who I am
But hard to live on an emptiness,
On a lost memory.
Hence, I refuse to understand the language
that only delivers solitude.

Coffee cup caught my tear
That actually did not come out
My pen shakes with its emotions
And this is how I’m accepting the reality
-quiet reflection of a lost life