met me and ran down the stairs, almost nothing seemed changed in her,
Then the sadness enveloped us like honey for the time slipped on us.
The sun was red already coming down the city
already and now our foreign and amazing and cool:
as an instant "deja vu", a shadow of youth, the fog around us ... Auto
still watching us in silence, old walls proponevan new heroes,
ten years to tell one to 'another, but the phrases in rimanevan in us
"What are you doing now? Remember? Were beautiful our times,
I wrote it a year, they told me you were still on. "
And then dinner at home, my new shower, dishes colored nostalgia ...
and phrases, as if we were two old men, only rincorrevan time behind us,
for the first time I saw those mirrors, I saw the paintings, ornaments and yours. Our myths
dead by now, the discovery of Hemingway,
feeling new things you dream and now views:
my America and its gets in the way our city so sad ...
cards and fly away in the wind station, cold and bright lights may
there for us and finally, in short, its almost the same situation in many of our films:
like a badly written book, he s' was killed for Christmas ,
but the sad story seemed absorbed by the dark:
poor friend that you told ten years in a few sentences and I greet you in one of my ... And I thought rocked by
wagon "dear friend the time it takes the time to ...
we run always in one direction, but what is and what sense who knows ...
dreams remain timeless impressions of a moment, the lights
in the dark houses glimpsed from a train:
us something that will not last, empty phrases in the head and heart full of symbols ... "
Incontro - Francesco Guccini
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