Father, mother,
gold and mine,
open heart,
road and frontier,
how much to go,
a little normal,
jazz.
It will take its name
to be able to still talk,
sheer beauty,
art nouveau,
naturalness,
our life,
not construction,
jazz.
This sense of the future,
irredeemably with us,
the pressure on the wings,
keeps us in the air.
Chorus: (x2)
But this year, what will the sea-stars be like?
It takes more strength, and who knows if there will come
boat or swift
to cure us beside the dream from inside the heart
in the soul or from where it will be.