There were times when I heard some naughty ghost    Whispering “he died” in my ear   And leading the wind so solemnly   I searched for you through the waves.   Well, maybe I was confused: you were   Sleeping at your girlfriend’s home again.   Sparing angels’ sighing songs we grew up, but whose blame?   They will open the door one more time,    To introduce another one dressed    In your summer pants and shirt    And silently I’ll share his stunned point of view   Without protests.   That young silver day shows now no menace at all.    Was it so far, two minutes ago?   You don’t have to come home this time:    The sun, with your voice, is walking away.   Delighted, it’s finally free.