Nomads - Franco Battiato
Nomads angles seeking tranquility,
in the mists of the north, in the tumult civilized
between clarososcuros and monotony of the days that pass. Walker
that you seek peace in the twilight
find it, find it
the end of your journey. Long
transit of the apparent duality,
September rain awakens
vacuum my room and cries of loneliness still prolonged.
As a foreigner does not feel bonds of sentiment, and I'll
city,
waiting for a new awakening.
Travelers go in search of hospitality, in villages
sunny in the lower depths of the wilderness,
and then sleep on the pillows of the earth. Stranger
you're looking for unfathomable dimension,
find it outside the city,
the end of your journey.
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