If I could live again my life,
In the next - I'll try,
- to make more mistakes,
I won't try to be so perfect,
Through the course of generations
men brought the night into being.
Mirrors are not more silent
nor the creeping dawn more secretive;
in the moonlight, you are that panther
we catch sight of from afar.
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset,
There must be one (which, I am not sure)
That I by now have walked for the last time
Without guessing it, the pawn of that Someone
It opens, the gate to the garden
with the docility of a page