I carry the reverie of a German soul
torn musicality made of mist and forest
where all roads and dreams end ,
young poet madly in love ,painful melody
you want to live to die ...poor Werther !
Sometimes here, child of italy
full of mercurial fantasy !
the girls of Milan have a scent of scala,
a glass of tuscany dreams ,comedia del\'arte ,
on a Campania beach I take few steps with Fellini ...
Of the French elegant \'\'Art de vivre \'\'
I only have, words, the clumsy Belgitude
looking the heights of Notre Dame towers ,
but Victor Hugo is an old beard ,
Tintin and the Goof are my friends !
Boatman,sailing up Volga melody ,
vodka my comrade !
To the west of the great wall ,
I\'ll find my little tribal village ,
its well trimmed hedges and flowery paths...
At sunrise my pastoral symphony !