Your eyes, inside the mirror's eye, Like a hawk, are hunting for an old look; A cigarette between your lips, tirelessly smokes your dreams; a handful of ashes; smell of scorching a shiver; no energy to tremble; the veins loosen, snap, drop. Cry without voice; Die without body; The nights drink themselves; The fast steps of time erase the traces of childhood A mirror emerges; It does not recognise itself Are you HER?! Your hair is a pair of old socks! Now a silent cleavage opens up Even now the sky, as broad as its vastness, Affords a meeting-point of sadness in your eyes Even now a violent downpour Can wash away the smoke of death in your ears. You have a chance to move your wings, you old hawk, Have a journey to the House of the Sun. What is wrong with this? You, too, have the right to swim inside a handful of salty tears; You, too, can strip naked inside the bedroom of your fantasies; You, too, can curse the bastards, You too can, like an old goose, Cleanse the sewage on your body, With the oil under your wings. You too can dig a little grave inside your ears And bury the body of fear You too can startle the heart of the wall With a scream!! You, old hawk, The prey of the predator, You are a happy meal for yourself You have carried the clouds on your shoulder And do not know where to downfall To become a handful of green patch, A sacred gift of love. You the victim of the gossip of this bitter candy You the sweet seed of bitter tree What did this society do to you? What did this rotten regime bring upon you? Don't shut the windows Twilight has something left in it, Nevermind they have locked your heart The eye of your mind is open Have hope, old hawk, Hooray, hooray, hooray You can move your wings And go away For a journey to the Sun.