You breathe in the burning air,
 / your lungs fill with the air of the flute

Someone rushes to a house that's been moved away.

“Well, let’s fly . . .”“Where to and why?”“Just fly to nowhereafter that cloud . . .”Just let’s rush off nowhere, nowhere,let’s listen to the wires…

Fate’s little picturesdrawn by a most slender pen,will hang in the damp airon a little spider’s web.The rains drawwith their own flying handwriting,and the wind shuffleslight strokes like…

All this moves and rustles,plays and waves,dances blindly to someone’s pipeand crowns someone’s thought. It plays and singsand beckons with an apple branchand at times sweetly wounds the soul,at…

The wind revels in the quiet night . . .The Lord has marked the coming dayin a black draft, so as to recreate iton a clean white copy, and the skywill be bright in a momentand will flare in a crimson…

“La vie,” Edith Piaf sings,“La vie, la vie,” seize the moment . . .And this voice is eternally rightand there’s no threat of it being buried in oblivion.“La vie,”…