Meditation Park

                                  Feeding squirrels and drinking coffee  

At the Meditation Park  

No one knows this place, that seems to me.  

Thousands of three-colored leaves 

Form a ground just made of trees  

How long can they look this way for?  

Now I'm picking references,  

Without thinking anyway  

To know the altitude more or less.  

Well I see the Seymour Mountain 

On the other side of the creek  

Just in front of me snowy already.  

Rotten ships remain anchored  

There must be 25 or more  

Where do they come from? What do they bring?  

Ah, only the air seems real  

Ah, not even me, and then  

Ah, some remote voices I hear  

Ah, only the air  

Now a sunbeam falls on me  

Warm enough to feel its heat  

I guess that now I must go to work  

Ah, where do these voices come from  

Ah, what do they say?  

Ah, only the air  

Ah, not even me, not me