“I died”, I said, remember?
In this kind of room where I find myself now I miss the air, I miss looking at the horizon from above, The desire to fly.
I miss the blue heavens of altitude swept by the wind that from the Tyrrhenian shocks the clouds towards the Ionian.
I miss the sunsets.
But I did not die so that the melancholy is constructive, allows you to have a desire, A horizon to look at, towards the future though…
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ENG
“I’m died”, I was saying, do you rememer?
In this kind of room I am naow I miss air, I miss overlooking the horizon, I miss flying desire.
I miss the blue skies in quota swept by the wind that let clouds pass from the Tyrrhenian to the Ionian Sea.
I miss the sunsets.
But I’m not dead so that melancholy may be constructive, let to have a desire, a horizon to look, towards the future, however…
