Long gone are the times
When Roma wandered around,
But I still see them.
They are like running water
Always running away.
You can only guess
What she would like to say.
Poor water has no speech
With which she could talk or sing,
Only sometimes she whispers
A silver splash like a heartbeat.
A heartbeat of speaking water.
Only a horse on a meadow
Not far the stables
Hears her and understands.
Water looks not at the horse,
Always running away.
No eyes could ever pin down
Water that always wanders.