I come from a country looking for roots
under gray sky symphony and bitter juniper.
Waterloo , Waterloo mourn plain !
My germanity is tired in the kingdom of boredom.
I fancy a sparkling wine from Italy
the smile of an olive-skinned lady
and her dark gaze that stirs the soul ...
I desire an sweet tuscan landscape
where I philosophize with Leonardo ...
In my hand the solar reflection
of a sicilian dagger to peel my orange ...
Hitting the road with the mad Zampano
and find Anita in the trevi fountain ...
I come from a linear country
who don\'t speak to foreigners ,
it rains on the topic of the wet ,
we watch as England drinks in the open sea,
flemish words lack height ,colliding in the wind
and roundness of O ,under the eyeless steeples...
I\'d like to see the little nuns running naked on the dunes !
The clocks of the old country no longer tell time
to the cloud people ...
To die what a lack of savoir vivre !
But one night at the scala ,Pavarotti will return !
Bellissimo nessun dorma !
My avventura life will drift in the bay of Napoli
and further still in the land of marble statues
petrified of sensibility ...