ALONE YOU SING

Alone you sing
with trembling voice
finding rhymes
with "consciousness",
and in the spring
you have no choice
but spend your time
with carelessness,
and when you bring
back home your noise
you hear the chimes
of faithfulness.

You ask yourself
if in your life
you lost something
that could help you,
if pain itself
must be your wife
if anything
must make you blue.

And that game
you used to play
seem to vanish
in the air,
it's just the same
for you to say
"I wash my dish"
or "life's unfair",
and you don't blame
those who pray
more than you wish
that you could care.


08/2006