I arrive at the port empty-handed
I arrive in the evening without counting
And every morning empty I have to start again
I arrive at the front without wisdom
I comes of age for no reason
It is certain that we live barely
It is certain that we live without manner
I reach you by miracle
After long years
After centuries of obstacles
And Mondays, sad Mondays to cry
I can't do anything that console
I can't achieve anything that pretends
I can't achieve anything that flies away
Nothing that defies time
And it happens that a star
Over us for a moment
It is certain that life hurtles us
It is certain that it takes us on
I come to you by miracle after long years
Consulting the oracles
And watching, watching for the unexpected
I am coming from the north of Ireland
I come from the hollow of a valley
I come straight from Samarkand
I come from the peppered Indies
And if he arrives that I sing that I let myself be carried away
It is certain that life torments us
It is certain that we taste regrets
I reach you by miracle
After long years
After the gray childhood
And youth, and wild youth

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