Atlantic City, NJ. Sept. 26, 1972
By Vladimir Huber
A little girl walks in the park
glittering the trees stare at her
she feels them without seeing them
she feels more than what she sees
It’s amazing how much she can feel
it’s amazing how much she will hide
it won’t amaze us
she has to join, after all
She gets pushed, we help a lot
Little girl, is your world my world?
When you stare at a butterfly
do you feel what she feels?
Can you capture the fragrance
of a rose in early spring?
‘Cause I can’t anymore
I had to join, after all
Little girl, you know that
I am supposed to help you
but it doesn’t happen that way
The only help that I need
is the one that you can give me
No, you don’t understand
there is a lot that you can do
Yeah, I am telling you
believe me, please, I need you
now more than ever
You see, long time ago
between the smoke of chimneys
and the steam of big trains
when I was just a little boy
I used to smell the flowers
and talk to the birds as you do
The smoke and the steam
got into my brain, lungs
and for over all, my heart
Now, my system is corrupt
and my heart, brain and lungs don’t work
What? No, they don’t
Oh, I know what people tell you
don’t trust them, yours do
Yes, your heart, brain and lungs work
and that’s why you talk to the birds
and smell the flowers
that feel recognized by you
and not by me
Well, I’ll tell you
As you grow old, things change
I know, you get bigger
but you also feel less
What is it?
Well, you forget birds and flowers
and you destroy many beautiful things
What is to destroy?
Oh, God! I wish I could say that
To Destroy is the stream
that carries everybody’s boat
Your boat? Of course not!
‘Cause your boat
is driven by a flower and pulled by a bird
Like that, you just can’t destroy
Why do I do it?
Gee, I don’t know
I guess I don’t know better
And then, how am I telling you?
I guess there is no excuse
To hold your hand, to help you?
Little girl, you don’t understand
I don’t want to get your hand dirty
You see, I am a grown-up
so, I better don’t touch you
You have been poisoned enough
Listen, little girl
I don’t think I even deserve to talk to you
That you like me?
Thanks, but I better go
Why do you hug me?
That you are not proud?
I know that
You are too little to be proud
You see, people point at the sky
with their sharp noses
maybe, from fear of pointing at themselves
It’s a long story
I’ll tell it to you some other time
Let’s go for a walk on the beach
maybe the smoke and the steam
will tangle with the breeze
and your sweet, sweet eyes will meet with them
like two lovers embracing each other
in a long, warm gesture of love.