Songs of birds and moves of squirrels
Quiet conversations among trees, winds and the sun
I cannot explain how the black patches
Of what I don't know what
On the brief curious view from
The window of the airplane
Turns into forests of beautiful pine trees here and there
It is summer
And the sun likes to see
How He can bake the buildings and my skin
But the cold night always tries
To whisper in my ears that she's always there
Proud young people in roaring racing cars
Walking thick-bellies with burgers and Coke at hands
This little town is no exception
From the enchanting magic of capitalism
But...
It would be the nearest place
To the Life and the Nature
I have ever been offered
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