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The Laundry
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We climb up summits in our lives, in our hearts
This infite love mixed with pain
The sharing and the instant of happiness
Which we keep anchored in ourselves, as if to honor it
I climb up the mountain the same way I climb up my life
All those crossed looks, yes, I understood them
I've seen in a thousand times, and yet I am still surprised
By the beauty of those who made me let go
It's the wordless beauty which transforms an instant
Kneeling in the ice, letting what must be done be done
I keep inside me the warmth, the taste of the present
Of those instants of grace which were you, which were me
They live their ascent, climb up and brave their fear
The only prison there is is the one you build inside your heart
I take note and learn from it in its brilliant lights
The moon, their looks, don't dying before one's time
I preciously keep the experience inside my flesh
Coming back to everyday life, which is not so ordinary, either
Inside the pages of a book, all those lines which describe me,
Everything finishes and comes to an end, after ecstasy come the laundry
It's the wordless beauty which transforms an instant
Kneeling in the ice, letting what must be done be done
I keep inside me the warmth, the taste of the present
Of those instants of grace which were you, which were me
Roped inside my head down to my backpack
Little storms are pushing me upwards
The cold I'm breathing, I feel myself getting lighter
I never saw it coming, with both my feet in the snow
Since then it's become easier, and step after step,
If I walk slowly, if I follow someone else,
I'll have my entire life, letting what must be done be done
That which we climb up, which was you, which was me
It's the wordless beauty which transforms an instant
Kneeling in the ice, letting what must be done be done
I keep inside me the warmth, the taste of the present
Of those instants of grace which were you, which were me
It's the wordless beauty which transforms an instant
Kneeling in the ice, letting what must be done be done
I keep inside me the warmth, the taste of the present
Of those instants of grace which were you, which were me
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Übersetzungen von „La lessive“
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