The hot air from my mouth to warm up suits me
My soul empty of all that surrounds me
Despairs me a little longer on the streets where
This continuous cold city without knowing my paradigm
I feel as weak as the leaves of the season
The fall with a single blow behold, my revolt
Becomes useless, inappropriate, out of time trying
Just one more time to feel good shovel company
But these alternatives are ground drag my
Body without raising the legs as if
You drag a corpse can barely hear the taunts
Society lost the city, visually
No longer detect my way where only dazzles
Two wells of disquiet emerge by which
A shimmering light through two lenses
Show me the landscape is breathtaking.

Thoughts of Jerôme Kaspovic