Let’s talk about the old times for once.

Let’s tall about the old times for once.

The familiar cáfe we used to go.
A colonnade of horse chestnuts could be seen from the windows.
We made do with a cup of coffee all day.
Recklessly fumbling for unseen tomorrow,
Everybody entrusted the hope.
Blew by hot winds of the tempestuous age,
We felt the moment with all our bodies. Didn’t we?
We slept on street sometimes.
We can’t go anywhere. Together.
We had no money, but somehow lived on.
The poverty carried tomorrow.
So many thronged a small lodging house,
Frolicked till morning, and slept.
Every day was burning just like a storm.
We ran till we were out of breath. Didn’t we?
Look at the only picture I have left.
The man with a mustache is you.
There are some friends
we don’t know the whereabouts any more.
But no one can say
that everything of the day was empty.
They still must be dreaming endless dreams,

Must keep running. Somewhere.

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