While I am looking at the sea, my thought goes
to the latitude of another age,
when I believed it in the fables,
always with the head between the clouds,
dreams and desires became reality
inside the book of the imagination.
It was the season of the life in which is not melancholy.
Now in this time of restlessness,
I feel that you/he/she cannot delude anymore.
Despite everything, a little of ingenuity stays,
inside, the hope there is still,
as then I want to always continue to ask me, because
and I paint the world my way around me,
as a child in the time that never loses
his/her curiosity,
it is the instinct that lets me fly street of here.
A child in the time is never surrendered,
it seeks happiness,
The air of saltiness breathing,
company loneliness does me.
This place seemed me magic
in the memory of when I was small.
As then I look for an answer, that there is not
and I don't know what difference does:
to remain I stop to wait or to go away of here.
And I paint the world my way around me.
As a child in the time that never loses
his/her curiosity,
it is the instinct that lets me change the reality.
A child in the time is never surrendered,
but it seeks happiness
and forever invisible and true
this part of me will stay...
And I paint the world my way around me,
a child in the time is never surrendered,
but it seeks happiness.
