Marcheur

I never chased fame

Nor left in memory

Men, songs

I like subtle worlds

Light and gentle

Like soap bubbles

I like to see them paint themselves

Of sun and seed

Fly under the sky Under the blue sky

Vibrate suddenly

And break

I never chased fame

Walker, these are your footsteps

The path and nothing more

Walker, there is no path

The path is created by walking

By walking, the path is created And turning your eyes behind

We see the path that never

Must be trodden again

Walker...

There is no way

Other than that of the stars

In the sea...