A sound that we cannot say
trocadero the music plays
across the waters of the world
trocadero the guitar strong
of mystic eyes and moving breath
a look of love that filled the chest
of perchance a melody
that fought and found melancholy
waiting to hear the beat
falling water from the heights
caught in me not given back
how music became nutrient for the heart
defeated we could claim
pain and bitterness that stubbornly stayed
teased the brain to live at least
capacity became its leave
of drums and whistles
and swaying skirt and the spasm
of romantic breath
raced to the moon
in the clouds of night
two souls with one passion
a burning light
and even in the next days of heaven
when love and will become as even
and blossoms and scents
are room with saints
leaves and thorns in the way
the sweet sultry music played
from the dreams of the continents
to an eternal fulfillment
Trocadero and his breath.