It was late for me to exist, to feel the absolute truth of who I am on my face.
When I woke up, it wasn't me who was walking, it wasn't me tiptoeing across the wet ground. It was like this, always like this, that I bent over myself, eager to feel, feverish to believe that tomorrow would still be drawn on the line that runs through my hand.
Green with hope, when the seconds tick away, the morning's dawn and life seems like a stagnant pond where you can't even find frogs.
That time will come, that day will come...
All this revolving time in a constant thought of what will be yet.
If it never happens?
If it never is?
If it never happens?
What will become of the time I live in now, burning up images of a fuller day? Will the future arrive, or has it always been here on the promise of dreams?
Translated with DeepL.com (free version)
Негізгі бет Dois dias e cinco miragens - Two days and five mirages
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