Like a stone that is thrown into the water of a stream and that leaves behind it thousands of rounds in the water. Like a carousel of the moon with its horse of stars, like a saturn ring, a carnival ball. Like the roundabout that makes the hours go on and on. The journey around the world of a sunflower in its flower. You make turn from time to time all the molds of my heart. Like the woolen horses in the hands of a child, or the words of a swan caught in the trees of the wind. Like a whirlwind of snow, like a flight of koelens on the forests of Norway, on the sheep of the ocean. Like the roundabout that makes the hours go on and on. The journey around the world of a sunflower in its flower. You make turn from time to time all the molds of my heart. That day, near the spring, God knows what you told me. But the race was over, the bird fell from its nest. And here I am on the sand, my feet are already fading. And I am alone at the table that resonates under my fingers. Like a tambourine that cries under the drops of the rain. Like the songs that die as soon as they are forgotten. And the autumn leaves meet less blue skies. And your absence gives them the color of your hair. A stone that we throw into the living water of a stream. And that leaves behind it thousands of rounds in the water. Like the roundabout that makes the hours go on and on. The journey around the world of a sunflower in its flower.