| You keep saying that I should stay, That I wander no more again, That at sunrises and sunsets, Through a window, I stare. And me, I long for wayfaring, And itineraries, daring, And a song, on my way, as well Is essential like air. Not to dope square meters out, But to mete kilometers out. Cold and rain, heat and midges are Quite a trifle as well. And to grow weary from fatigue Rather than from senility, And to miss all them left behind, Never pitying myself. Forest Venus-like, let a fir Lash its bough against the nerves. Let the sky, not a gallery, Feature colors and hues. Better savors of forest land, Than a stuffy apartment Better have a sleeve burnt in fire Than a life in saloons. And you are harping that I should stay, That I wander no more again, That at sunrises and sunsets, Through a window, I stare. And me, I long for wayfaring, And itineraries, daring, And besides, on my way, a song Is essential like air. |
