I don't know what it is
That sets me flying
Over the roofs this morning
Swift on tiptoe,
Touching the chimneys and railings.
Not even the middle of roofs,
Only the edges.
I don't know why it is
So many dancers
Dance in my dawn,
Hailing this hard city,
For most of the dancers that lead me
Point in directions daily
Of mountain and of sea,
Toward little villages
And houses nestling,
Rivers,
Hills.
I don't know what it is
That sets me flying
Over the roofs this early morning
Swift on tiptoe …