The fragments of dreams are torn to pieces
like if they were sewed with a needle.
You spell the characters
of the fairytale that had been forgotten.
The story continues without a name,
and also all the things I love.
The continuation of the hundred thousand nights
it's all you have to do.
The memories of these dreams are too vulnerable,
like if they were awaiting the arrival of someone.
Otherwise, I would see that person with my own eyes
or he would be forgotten.
Until the day we meet each other
I'll gently close my eyes, and then...
"We will talk about the farthest reaches of this paradise
and weave the closed curtain of this phantom funeral"