As if nobody died, nothing as if they were stones falling on the ground, or water on water...

I like the love of travellers
who kiss and go their own way.

They leave behind a promise.
And never come back.

In every port a woman waits;
The travellers kiss and go their own way.

One day they sleep with death
on the sea bed.

I love the love that is handed out
in kisses,  bed,  bread.

Love that may last for ever
or is fleeting.

Love that wants to free itself
to love some more.

Modern traveller...