I’M WAITING FOR AN INGAR SUMMER
I’m still waiting for Inca summer,
with whom I would like to live,
I would like to rest on the beach with you.
Cloudiness covers the blue sky,
still I wouldn’t want to throw dreams away,
although I don’t see any green grass.
I have experienced an Eskimo winter,
the one who rolled under the sun,
that’s why we’re still sad.
Once in a dream I saw how winter,
vanished overnight like a prisoner,
if only left in a breached prison.