The view from my window is always the same Two old beautiful houses A crack between them And a harbour That very harbour with white shirts hoisted Instead of sails And your perfume Instead of air With broken aquariums and scattered souls Whose machineries play Pink Floyd With its no one`s land which is actually mine With its lighthouse reminding you of my eyes Or reminding me of yours That very harbour that stares at me every night Every October night making me sleepless That one which I`ll leave some day from and forget all about That one with the fishermen`s whisper and the cord slicing the air As your gaze does