the light arose skeptically, from around the horizon
full of so much beauty, it was the harmattan season
a vague figure, dimly lit appeared from the distance
to describe this man wouldn't fit in just one sentence
he had set off into the wild earth in red brown clothes
he specifically chose this colors, to hide the road dust
for he had grown narcoleptic, of most common paths
he chased the song of freedom that played the loudest
and it was his own happiness faraway from the world
however beautiful the place he could only stay a while
however nice the woman, to him she was another girl
voluntarily forsaken on dark nights he seeked a smile
I have got a small trekking bag full of many souvenirs
from my other journeys from around the entire globe
umbrella in my underarm, for when the sky cry tears
and when the nights overwhelm, I have got a wool robe
the dishonored leaflets of trees floating in the breeze
and the hum on the highway, all characters in stories
I've found life pleasing, I'm sure death too will be fine
if you abhor me this night, and fill my cup with wine
and if you want to be happy, hold importance to nothing
succumb not to the night's mood look unto a morning
he reveals to folks everywhere, bidding them farewell
the traveler in red brown clothes enjoyed his life ideal.
