Stereophonic in the desert of the Damascus
Reverse the romance, the death of calculus
You call me into an era,
my future nostalgia.

Is it a miracle?

Well, you taught me how to see the walking star,

a tomorrow that I am afraid to speak of, though it no longer feels so far

The oxygen you breathe, sweetheart
where I learn that a hug is not a foreign art.
An exchanged memory beneath our skin,
a plate of longevity I wish I could live in.