Along my street for many years
I hear footsteps – my friends are leaving.
My friends’ slow leave
Is delightful to the darkness outside.
My friends’ affairs are unsettled,
There is no music at their homes, no singing.
And, just like before, Degas' girls
Are fixing their bluish feathers.
Well, well, not let the fear wake
You, defenceless, in the middle of this night.
To the deception, mysterious passion,
My fr