I remember,
a lot of guys with a guitar
and a piano.
I remember,
you singing
and turning your back on me.
The momuments of Rome,
the lige can't break them.
What is more friendship or love?
Midnight is near
and you are too far
from my room.
Time is stealing
sides of a picture
Maybe it's better.
Why not?
What do you know?
But this night is still mine.
Night of songs
of directors and young actors
of letters.
Night of dreams
of moms and dads at the window
of tears and prayers.
And the planes are flying between Prague and Rome.
Lost every morning
in the morror of the coffee
Maybe changed
a little bit different
but still
with the desire
to change again.
« return.