I who am, in the end, a continual dialogue, Aloud incomprehensible voice from the tower in the depths of night... When the untouched bells sound indistinctly. With the pain of knowing there's life to live tomorrow...

Yes, I am I, I myself, just what 
I turned out to be after all,
A sort of accessory or leftover,
The foggy suburbs of my sincere emotion,
It's me here inside of me, it's me...


What I was, what I wasn't  -  that's all me,
What I wanted, what I didn't, all of that gets to be me,
What I loved, what I stopped loving - it's all become the same
sad yearning in me.


And at the same time, the impression, a bit inconsequential, 
Like a dream made of mixed realities,
Of facing myself left behind on a seat in a trolley,
To be accidentally met by someone who'd sit down on 
top of me...