So that tomorrow won’t taste of tomorrow

How many years – for how long will I still

reproach myself for having grown

less than I should have

to be called a man: if this is a man

how many ways there are to be one

and to feel people say it – but it’s more

and more important to remain among men

trusting in a trail – maybe

walking backward in the footprints

to arrive (hic optime manebimus)

where the cherry garden is always in flower

undeserved paradise lost and found

which I should at last recognize

just a moment before I’m wrong

what an unbelievable mistake it is to believe

that I could get away with confronting myself

with the genesis of a new ideal

so you imprint your steps on the wind

and you’re the voice of crying clouds