The magic montain - A study on addiction

 

The Magic Montain

A Study on Depression and Addiction

by André Morais, March 2023

The song of the Brasilian group Legião Urbana named "The Magic Montain", from the album, is by far one of the most rich pieces of poetry to describe depression and addiction.  As Renato Russo (the band leader) sings, we are taken to a jorney where we start with the denial of the problem, through several relapses, and then to the decition to end with it.

I'm my own leader, I go round in circles
I balance betwen days and nights
My whole life waits something from me
half a smile, half a moon, full afternoon

The first stage of addiction is denial. The pacient denies that he is out of control. So, often when someone tries to give advice about moderation he will hear the pacient responding "I know what I'm doing, I'm my own leader". But also often the addicted know that he is going nowhere, going  "round in circles". He is  balances "between days and nights", which clearly means a situation of survival. A person with addiction don't loose himself sundenly, from a-day-to-the-other, but gets gradually off the balance of being functional and wasted, tipping towards the last.
Now. It's normal when people have expectations of us. That's the true sign of a persons' value to their life. Children expect protection and providing from their parents. Wives expect fidelity and companionship from their husbands. Husbands expect care and sex from their wives. Friends expect you add something to their lives.
To those who are lost to addiction and depression (depression being a form of addiction) the expectation of others, the life that "waits something from" you manytimes seems unfair. But believe me: it isn't. When people around you need nothing from you - because they can solve it alone or even prefer to solve it by themselves - you are become nothing. However, when you have someone who expect things from you, and who is willing to give the chance of providing it, you have the best tool to treat addiction and depression. To be needed by someone and to provide for the needs of that person. I've never saw anybody who did that in his life and wasn't at least safe.

My Poppy from India
My flower from Thailand
You are the softest thing I have
And you hurt me so bad

Here is the first relapse, and the presentation of the addiction. The drug the person uses (the Poppy from India = Opium) can be anything the person is addicted to and that though it is bringing pleasure, being the "softest thing", it also is cause hurt. Of course, the hurt is never to ourselves, but to others around us also: the same people ("life") that expect things from us.
This is an important point. A important thing that the compouser put close together the drug, the good part of it, and the bad. We can cleary say that who is singing is not at the start stage of addiction, because he is already seeing both sides of it: the good and the worst. Only a person in an advance stage of addiction is able to see something like that, and only after seen and admited, someone can strat a process of restoration of oneself. As it is said in AAA: the first step is to addmit you have a problem.
Important: note that this chorus will be repeated in the song everytime the subject gets too heavier to deal with. Exactly like someone so uses drugs as a escaping way. 

Stayed now what had gone away
I am just a bit tired
I don't know if it ends soon
My knee hurts
and there's nothing that can be done now

Pain, hangover, the body that is no longer what was. Good moments and worst moments come and go. And as the side effects and after effects of addiction become rotine, "there's nothing that can be done".

What are the angels for?
The happiness lives with me here
at least until the second warning
Another now lives my life
I know what he dreams, thinks and feels

The friends and family that give advice are the angels. There are sent by God to aid in the process of recovery, but often in the first stages of the problem the addicted don't see or don't admit what they are here for. Know that he won't progress until he does.
Have you ever imagined what you would be, had you not made that mistake? Had you not taken that path you took? You could be in a better house, in a better profession. And specially, do you know of a person that lives that life exactly because he is not you, and made not that mistake, and took not that path of yours. The addicted already thought of it at some point. And maybe right now that is his biggest nightmare.

Is not a coincidence my indiference
I am a copy of what I do!
What we've got is what we have left
and we are wanting for too much

Addiction robs of potential. The person with addiction is never at his prime. Even though he might be function, he is just a "copy" of what he could do. A copy of what he could be.
The fact that some who recovered from addiction do more than others. They are more careful, they are more atentive, they are more lifeful. That has nothing to do with "Waw, now they understand their full potential", but is the compensation that are due after all that have been lost in the dark times of addiction.
During addiction, piece by piece, the addicted looses things and oportunities and loved ones. He who wants both keep is addiction unchecked and not loose is "wanting for too much". So, some in recovery reduce the amount of time dedicatated to his addiction in order to increase the amount of time with other things in life, like work and family and friends and sport. That is one solution for those who cannot fully recover.

My Poppy from India
My flower from Thailand
You are the softest thing I have
And you hurt me so bad

The themes got too heavier. Time for another relapse.

There is an out-of-control, that brings corruption and growth
It may be, but I am ready for one more
What is it that disvirtues and teachers?
What have we done with our own lives?

In this stage of addiction the person has ups and downs and is aware of it. The awareness is important as long as the person is taking it as a lesson and he is trying to improve and (the most important) is improving.
If you see an addicted person (and this include addiction to behavor) is not improving, beware, specially if he says anything like the song here. May people who are not willing to change but are demanded to change will give you those excuses: I'm trying (but he is not), I know I'm doing it wrong (he is doing little to avoid it), etc. There is only try with some result to show.
"What have we done with our own lives?" Here is the worst point of addiction, when the person comes to full understanding what he has done with his life. That is the bottom of the pit.
In accordance to this thought, the song here enters into a instrumental filled with desperation.

The mechanics of friendship
The mathematics of lovers
Now, only recycling handwork
The rest is rubble

Friendship works and creates opportunities to avoit loneliness, and love (from sex and marriage) are the best addition to the recovery from addiction. Look for one or both of them, and respect what they have to offer both in command and demand. They are the best to help you with addiction, when you will not be able to help yourself.
The road of recovery from addiction if paved with "recycling handwork", because everything probably got demolited, and there is only rubble. That is perfectly normal, 'cause things are what they are. 
With hard work you can restore many points in your life that were lost or broken. They might even be beautiful, but they still will be "recycling handwork".

But of course we will not do any harm
and that is not what we are here for
every kid with his own pocket-knife
every leader with his own .38

The problem of addiction, though it is a problem of everybody around the addicted, the main battle is always with yourself. No excuses for not picking up the swords and rifles you have (even if they are only a pocket-knife and .38) and fight your problem. 

My Poppy from India
My flower from Thailand
Enough, I'm going to change my life
Let the cup fills up to the top
I want a day of sun
in a cup of water (END)

It would be another relapse. Another use of the chorus, another fall into the addiction. But finally the singer took the first step: the decistion. he is "going to change" his life. He also wants to take things slowly. "A strom in a cup of water" is a brasilian expression we have to describe someone who is being dramatic, who is taking a problem that is simple and treating it out of proportion. 
Decision, proper!, actual!, and taking things slowly but progressively. That is one of the best paths out of addiction.
As I said in the start, this is one of the best songs to talk about addiction, and by side effect depression, that is often the cause to addiction. In the song we can see three stages of the problem: the start, with arrogance of thinking is all under control; the middle, when problems and side effects are felt; and the third, where recovery and restoration of things are wanted and worked for.
I won't lie to you. If the person cannot reach the thrid and if he doesn't make it work enough for him and the others he depends on, the fourth and final stage is the destroction of the self. I never witness anyone who went into the fourth and then out of it. 
So, if you are suffering in one of the three stages, or are suffering because of someone (children, parent, husband or wife), I hope that the song and this analysis may help you and guide you out of it.
There is always a chance for "a day of sun in a cup of water."

It’s gotta be that .416 Rigby

[ Wisdom of the Hunt, 2013 - Chapter II ] 

 Guaranteed shot: kills from wild boar to rhinoceros.

Africa is the hunter's paradise, with plenty of big and dangerous game: lions, rhinoceros, buffaloes, etc. And all of them are not games you miss twice. As we say: you got one shot and it better works and it better works fast.

Therefore, to hunt these big animals, the hunters arm themselves with a weapon with a strong caliber of a violent strike. For example, using a thin caliber, under 0.30 inch, which will pierce the animal and go right through it, is rarely the correct choice. An impactful caliber is better, anything over 0.30 inch, so that you can pierce the game and knock it down.

One of the calibers recommended for this type of hunting is the .416 Rigby, an extremely strong and impactful caliber, specially invented for hunting large and dangerous animals in Africa. This caliber is so strong that if you are hunting a lion and do not hit the ideal spot, but close, it is guaranteed that the animal will go to the ground already dead just because of the shock of the bullet.

I want you to Understand that this applies to dangerous animals that pose a danger to the hunter, when he is hunting by foot. None needs one of these calibers to hunt a deer or an elk that we normally hunt on a stand.

In life there are also some serious problems, which pose danger to us and to other people (whether spiritual, social or even physical).

These problems are big and situations where you should not try half solutions. Problems where you should apply .416 Rigby approach.

Let's take an extreme example. Your husband has become an alcoholic, and when he drinks he yells at you or worse, he has already raised his hand at you or forced you to have sex. I know that the relationship is a bond, especially a father of your children, but cases like these almost always require a strong solution that does not allow for any reaction. If it was just raising your voice, especially after a conversation with him in which you said that if he did it again you would take action, take action: call his parents, friends, and confront the person in such a way that he has no way of reacting. “My son, we heard the nonsense that you are drinking and yelling at the mother of your children. We'll keep an eye on you now, so find a destination other than the bar.” Then, if addiction is set, and many times it is, the solution might be that you agree upon a fixed amount of drinking for a fixed time of the day and that’s the more you can give and you go, like the Russians said in WWII, not a step back.

In a less extreme, but equally valid example. Imagine that you are in a relationship that is already lasting much longer than normal, but that has not taken the next step: marriage. A teenage boyfriending you for two, three years is fine, it’s something that can be understood because of context. A young man boyfriending you for four years it’s fine, he might be getting mature about a man’s proper duties. But an adult, with a fixed job, both of you, and it got to the fourth year and no preparation of “If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it”, you know he’s bullshinting you.

And maybe that’s a cause for the mighty 416 Rigby. Call him, sit down to talk decisively and go “Look, we dated for four years, not four months. I was your caring and helpful girlfriend for all this time. I invested in this relationship, and I never hid it from you that I wanted the papers signed. If you need a house, let's work together for one, if you need a better income, let's combine our two and if it's missing, we'll face the lack of it and go after more money together, and don't even fuck me with that ‘I need more time to be sure’ because if the time we've been together wasn’t enough that, I need find someone who decides faster, because I'm not going to be one of those women you men leave after years of boyfriending to marry without any problem a year-long-date younger blondie”.

Note that in the two examples we gave, not solving it right away is a risk. You risk allowing your boyfriend to find yet another excuse to buy more time, such as “we get married after we find a house for us” and in the end the process of finding that house takes a year because “he wants the perfect house ”. You risk, by not taking action with an abusive drunk husband, getting a worse beating.

The Rigby shot, as difficult as it may seem to pull that trigger, is often the only proper solution. Make it fast, make it hurt less. One more year to get married?! You do not deserve it. Surely there's someone special out there who won't love you. Get spanked again by that motherfucker?! You do not deserve it. Surely there is someone special out there who will kiss your body like something sacred.

A buffalo hunt in Africa is not a bird hunt in grandpa's yard. It's a serious hunt. With consequences if you miss your shot. Likewise some things in life. Not every single one of them, I know. But some things are very serious. It's not like the dilemma of choosing between pants or a skirt for that Sunday dinner at your parents' house. Your future can remain bad, change for the worse or stop changing for the better if you don't make a firm decision.

Of course, analyze, think twice about advice people you trust the most give to you, do not listen only to a single informant, but try to confirm when it comes and it’s gotta be that .416 rigby?

Letting it go to catch next

[ Wisdom of the Hunt, 2013 - Chapter I ]  

 If you ain't gonna kill, then let it go.

That's what we learn in the sport of hunting. You have your best composite bow in the stand, which you’ve set up at the base of the hill in your grandpa's land, where you went on a trip for the year’s bow season. Then, after four hours of waiting patiently, as you should do, the deer appears, walking too far for your hitting skills. Well you better know that a bow ain’t a rifle, and the game needs to be within a certain distance, otherwise you will throw an arrow into the dirt, or worse!, into the guts of that poor animal that will run and die far away from your finding. What does a wise hunter do?

Well, I can tell you what many people do in life: they fly that arrow in hope it will hit that girl, that job, that important test, that message you wish your kid to remember, etc.

But life is a big series of hunt trips. Some problems either you solve them well, or leave them alone for a while. It’s good to understand that palliatives and temporary solutions might make some problems worse.

If you shoot an arrow at that far off deer that cannot be pierced by the power of your bow, one theses things can and will probably happen:

• You miss the shot, lose the arrow and have to go back home saying to yourself “it was the day of the game”;

• It scares the animal, and scared, the game gets suspicious and never goes through that region again, spoiling your chance to try again;

• You hit the game badly, it dies god knows where, and you get back home without results.

In any of these situations, you won’t have the result of the hunt. As everyone should know, if you just enjoy the act of shooting at things you better go to paint-ball or to a training range: they will be happy to provide you with tools of shooting and targets that even mimic real-life scenarios. But the hunt is different: here the proper result is to bring the game home.

The honorful hunter accepts his limitation and/or the limitation of his equipment and skills and says “I let it past, I couldn’t hit him there”. But the shameful hunter learned to say “I got it, I’m sure it fell” and when someone asked “So where is it?” goes “I couldn’t find it”.

Not trying to solve a problem in life right now, right in the moment it shows up might be in some circumstances the best you can do.

Sometimes you have to wait for the right opportunity to act. The time may not be right now, may not be tomorrow, but it will come. Imagine that you are going to ask your boss for a raise because you aren’t happy with what you earn from your position. Then I ask you: is it worth going to your boss to ask for a weak raise, hearing a no, and having to leave “Okay, sorry to bother you”. Can you imagine if you wait for the right opportunity (also preparing yourself beforehand - see chap. VI) and be able to make the request based on another job offer you got: “Boss, I came to talk about a salary increase, because it's been a while I work for you, I studied, I graduated, I developed my curriculum, I specialized, and unfortunately it is not possible to continue missing opportunities that are arising for a professional like me.” A power like these, and especially if you're really a valued employee, can make your boss think, “Whoa! he must be getting proposals” and think better about his raise.

But you must be wondering, of course, what if he says “Then go after these opportunities”. And I won’t tell you I ever saw that working. But at least it’s a better try than the other.

 I'll give you a better example. Imagine that you are in a relationship, everything is going well, and after two months of dating you start thinking about marriage and living together. Well, it's not the time! No man dates today to marry tomorrow. So, don't take advantage of every opportunity you think is in front of you to drop the indirect "love when we get married we're going to be so happy". You just become a boring girl and go with something that most men don't want to talk about right now. Wait for the proper time to say "So, honey, we've been dating seriously for two years, it's about time we financed a house." And you will be able to catch the boyfriend in the jump. If he stalls, maybe it's a case of understanding that "The rabbits’ bushes ain’t got no deer".

As you understand that not every problem needs to be solved at once, you may start to think about how to prepare for the best solution to your problem, and most specially a one-off and firm solution.

I cannot count how many parents training their kids to get used to “you are grounded” just for an hour or two. Soon they learn that they can get away with things shenanigans. Other parents - I can assure you quite fewer - will do just one or a some punishments, they will be firm, they will be sure, and they will be able to pass the lesson better.

And, of two hunter that return with five ducks, which would you call more successful? He who spent 10 shots or he who spent 30?

Secret of the Citzen of Itabira

City of Itabira, the Authors' hometown

Poem: Carlos Drummond de Andrade | Translations: André Morais

I lived some time in Itabira, but specially I was born in Itabira.

That's why I'm sad and serious: like iron.

There is as much iron in the streets of Itabira as there is iron in the souls of people.

And there is the indifference of what in life is broke and meaningful.

The wish for love, that always gets me paralyzed, comes from Itabira

her white nights, without women and horizons.

And the tendency to suffer, which I find so funny, it's a sweet itabirian heritage.

From Itabira I brought gifts that now I put to you: 

a stone of row iron that will become brazilian steal

a Saint Benedict from the saint-maker Alfredo Durval;

the pelt of a deer, put over the sofa in the visit room;

this pride and this low head.

I've had gold, I've had cattle, I've had farms.

Now, I'm just a public employee.

Itabira is just in the picture I keep in the office.

But, god, that hurts.

The moon I gave you

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Digest: Dom Casmurro

What was

The house I live in was made exactly like the one I lived as child. My intention, of course, was to restore in the old age the youth. But my friend: I could not get to restore what was and also not what I was. The face is the same, but the expression is different. If I was missing others, okay: a man gets along more or less fine despite the people he lost. But I miss myself, and this hole is everything.

What is here is - for lack of a better definition - like the paint people put on the hair to keep the external aspect. As they say in the autopsy: there is no paint for the guts.

A document that gave me twenty years less would fool the public, as do all the things that are fraud. But it doesn't fool the self.

The friends I have are from recent times. All the old ones are now studying the geology of the graveyards.

As for the girlfriends, some are from fifteen years, some a little less, and almost all of they belive in the youth. Two of them would make others believe, but the language they use requires you to constantly look up the dictionary, and this frequence is often boring.

Her hair

I kept on touching her hair, carefully, dividing them in two equal parts so to make to ponytails.

I didn't work fast or efficiently, like do the professional hair dressers, but slow, tasting with the hands those threads that were part of her. The work was filled with mistakes, many times for inexperience, other times to undo what was done to make it again. The fingers could stretch her neck and the shoulder between the dress, and the feeling was divine. But the hair was finishing, as much as I wish they were endless.

I didn't ask the heavens that her hair was to long like the dawn, because I yet knew not that Goddess the old poets showed me. But I did want to brush them throughout the centuries and forever. To make two ponytails that would wrap around the infinite a million times over.

If you think this is too much, unfortunate reader, it's because you never got the change to brush the hair of a yong girlfriend.

Virgin of Women

I looked back to her: she had the eyes to the ground, but she raised them, slowing, and we kept looking to each other. Confessions of childhood, you were worth two or three pages, but I want to save you. In fact we spoke nothing, the inscription on the wall spoke everything. We didn't move, were the hands that moved towards each other, holding, uniting, becoming one.

I don't have the exact timing of that moment. I should have written it down. I feel the lack of a note written in that very moment, which I would put here with the mistakes it had. But it would have none: because was little the difference between the man now and the boy then.

I knew the rules of writing without suspecting those of love. I had orgies of latin, being a virgin of women.

A Thought by Pencil

 

I don't like the pen. I don't use it. Don't know if you've noticed, but the pen runs wild on the paper, it has no breaks. When you mistake, and want to correct, it all gets messy. Ends up looking like a ink diarrhea. But not the pencil. The pencil is wonderful. It grabs the paper. It welcomes the eraser. It follows our hand and our thought. In fact, I am a man that only thinks by pencil.  Narradores de Javé (Film)

afds

Song for the young girl's album

 

Poem: Drummond | Translation: André Morais

Good morning! I say to the girl

that smiles from afar

Good morning! But from the distance

she doesn’t even say it back.

For nothing the speech of the eyes

and of the hands

says again: good morning.

to the girl that was at night

and at day far away

from my reach

and my poor good morning.

But, good morning. Always!

If the answer comes cold or late,

yet I will wait for the good day.

And between the small houses,

over the hills and the plains,

I will keep on repeating

lovely, everytime, good morning.

The girl doesn't notice

doesn't feel, doesn't even think

what there is of love in the core

of this good morning.

Good morning, I repeat by day

and by night I go: good morning.

The night disolves men

 

Poem: Drummond | Translation André Morais

The night fell. What a night.
I can no longer see my brothers
nor can I hear the rumors
that yesterday made me worry.

The night has come down.
In the houses, in the streets
where people wage war,
in the fields where they die,
the night spread fear
and total misunderstanding.

The night fell. Loudly!
Hopeless the whispers
denouce a dark presence
that freezes the soldiers.

The love can't open the way 
into the night. Undying night,
complete, without breaks,
the night dissolves men,
she says it's useless to suffer,
the night dissolves the countries,
it destroys the generals
medals and uniforms.
The night turned everything into night
for the world there is no medicine
those who have killed themselves were right.

Like our parents

Song: Belchior | Translation: André Morais

I don'f wanna talk to you, my great love, about the things I've learn in the books. I wanna talk about how I lived, and everthing that has happen to me. I tell ya: to live is better than to keep dreaming. I'm sure that love is a beautiful thing. I'm also sure that any idea is not as important as the life of any person.
And that why you should take care, my dearly, 'cause there is danger in the streats out. They have won and all the signs are red for us who are yong.
To embrace your brother and to kiss your girlfriend in a date is what your arms and your lips are made for.
You often aske about my pations, I'll keep saying that I just am wondering about a new invention I've heard.
I'm staying in the big city, I'm not leaving for the contry, 'cause I see coming in the wind the smell of a new season.
I know about everything in the living wound inside my heart.
Too much long ago was when I saw you in the streets - long hair and protesting. In the wall of my memories, this is the pictury that hurts more.
And my pain is to notice that despite everything we've already acomplished, we are still the same and live just like our parents. Our idols are still the same. And aprearences ain't fooling nobody, when you say that nobody new has not come up.
You may say that I am a fool or that I am lying: but it is you who loves the past and don't see that the new will always come.
Today I know that the one who gave me the idea of the new conscience and youth, he is in fact in his home, safe as a baby, accounting for all his profit.
And my pain is to notice that despite everything we've already acomplished, we are still the same and live just like our parents. 

I failed on everything

Poem: Fernando Pessoa | Translation: André Morais

I am divided, today,
between the debt I got in my credit-card: as the real thing from the outside
and the feeling that everything is just a dream: as the real thing from the inside.
I failed on everything!
As I did not have any intention... it's like maybe everything was for nothing
The learning, which I was given? 
I just left the classroom with it and went to the streets with great goals
but there I just found cars and commerce
and when there were people they were just like any other people.

I leave the bedroom.

Then I sit on the kitchen table.
What am I supposed to think?
What do I know of me, me!, that not even know myself?
Might it be that I am what I think I am... but I think I am so many things?
And there are plenty of people that also think they are so many things
that cannot be that many things in the world to be.

Intelligent? Rsrsrs
In this very moment a hundred thousand brains are dreaming they are intelligent, just like me,
and history will not notice a single one of them
and there will be just the manure of all they would conquer.
No. I don't believe in me.

All the madhouses are full of people who are sure of themselves.
I that am not sure of anything:
am I more or less correct?
Not. Not even in me.

In how many houses of this vast world,  there are
this very moment,
sitting intelligent people that are sure of themselves, dreaming.
How many goals that are beautiful, and well thought, and reasonable
yeas, I really mean they are beautiful, and well thought, and reasonable, and even possible!,
but will never come to the sun of happening and not will they find ears of people.

The world is for those who are born to conquer it and not for those who dream they could conquer it... even if they are right...

Have I being dreaming more than Napoleon?
Have I being embracing more humanity than Jesus Christ?
Have I being doing philosophy in secret that even Kant could not have written?

But I am, and maybe I will always be,
the one of that house in the corner (even though I don't live there)
I will always be he who wasn't born for it
I will always be he who had skills

I will always be he who waited for them to open the door of the doorless wall
and made a song of the infinity in a party
and heard the voice of god in well with no water.

Poem with a straight line

Poem: Fernando Pessoa | Translation: André Morais

I never met anyone who was defeated

everyone I know are champions in everything

and I, who many times was ridicule, who was absurd,

I, who have being joked about and kept quite

and when I spoke against it I was even more ridicule

I, who have had shame in finances

I borrowed money and didn't pay back,

who, when the time to fight came,

I've fled from the possibility of the fight.

I verify that I have no pair on this in the world.

 

Everybody I know and that talks to me

they never did anything ridicule,

they were princes, all of them, princes in life.

 

God! How I wish I could hear the human voice

the one which confessed not a sin, but a vice

the one which toled me not about violence, but about cowardice

 

Princes, my brothers, where are the normal people of this world?

 

The women could not want them, they could be cheated, they could have mistaken

but ridicule they were not, never

 

And I, who have being ridicule without having being cheated

How can I talk to my superiours without the help of a bear from time to time?

I don't go with them

Poem: José Régio | Translation: André Morais

"Come here" 

Some people say to me 

with welcoming eyes

openning their arms,

as they are sure

that would be better

if I gave them attention

whey they say "come here".

I look them with my trapping eyes,

and there are irony and tiredness in my eyes,

then I cross my arms and say "I don't go with them".

And that's my glory: 

to create desunion!

to follow nobody.

'Cause I live with the same I-don't-want-to

by which I was pushed out of my mom's womb.

No, I don't go with them! I just go

by where my own steps take me....

If what I'm looking for, none of you you know

Why do you repeat to me: "come by here"?

I rather slide by the muddy streets,

go arround with the winds like the leaves,

and walk shoeless until my feet bleeds,

than to go by there....

If I came to this world,

was only to deflower the virgin forest,

and to dig my feet into the sand of the beach.

And everthing else I do means nothing.

Then, how are you going

to give me strength, tools and corage

so I can break my obstacles?

Runs in your veins the old blood of the elders

You love what is easy!

I love what is far and what is invisible

I love the abyss, the rivers and the desert...

Go! You have roads,

you have gardens, you have public works,

you have a nation, you have houses

you have rules and treats and philosophers and wise-men...

I have my craziness!

And I carry it up like a torch burning in the dark night,

and I feel salive and blood and songs in my lips...

God and the Devil are the ones who guide me, no one else!

Everybody had fathers, everybody had mothers.

but I, who never start and do not finish,

was born from the love between God and the Devil.

Ah, come nobody to give my pitty intentions,

nobody to ask me for definitions!

Nobody to say to me "come with us"!

My life is the wind that went wild,

Is the wave that got strong

Is just one more atom that awoke....

I don't know where to go to,

I don't know where I am supposed to go,

But I know I won't go with them.