They flow the rivers, necessary abundance,
All the locks are open.
And under this pressure,
Everything goes wild, everything disperses, then everything calms down.
There is no captain who, in the face of this ephemeral tumult,
Can stay the course,
Keep a regular direction,
Take the reefs for continents, welcoming lands,
But nothing grows there, nothing lives,
Except hope.
This false brother, who carries you away, tires you, grabs you.
For lack of help, we end up sinking,
Pulled to the bottom by a heart that is too heavy.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN