To the docks where weight and boredom
_____
They arrive, bellies loaded with fruit
_____
They come from the ends of the earth
_____
With glints of blue sky
_____
Where we live almost naked
_____
I'd love to scrub off this gray
_____
To wonderland
_____
It seems to me that misery
_____
Hurts less in the sun
_____
When we talk of girls and love
_____
I lose my sense of things
_____
Where I see, arms stretched
_____
It seems to me that misery
_____
Hurts less in the sun
_____
On a creaking rust bucket
_____
To leave I'll work
_____
Taking the road that leads to
_____
On far-off islands
_____
Where languid girls
_____
By braiding, so they say
_____
I'll run, leaving my past
_____
No bags and a heart set free
_____
It seems to me that misery
_____
Hurts less in the sun
_____
It seems to me that misery
_____
Hurts less in the sun