The floating of clouds, enchanting and slow,
Is the sweetest thing that life could make me

And with warm hands in my pockets,
I suddenly remember

I'm trying to see something in them
And asking myself:
Is it just a stock phrase
Or does the last to finish win the race?

And with warm hands in my pockets,
I suddenly remember all the times I've seen you laughing
And there was not enough rain to quench my thirst

I've some good stories to tell,
And I show my silver hair like a peacock's tail

And with warm hands in my pockets,
I suddenly remember all the times I've seen you laughing
And there was not enough rain to quench my thirst