When we’re old, weary and frail,
Let’s go to the countryside
Where the crimson sunsets
Disappear in dark night sky.
Where we don’t need dreams
as we’re already in one,
Where the silence’s better
than questions, words and replies.
Where we don’t need to rush
And worry about career,
Instead, we are baking a pie
and everything is crystal clear.
You’re drinking a pint of beer,
I’m reading a children’s book,
It seems like all days disappear
In one your sincere look.
And we take a stroll in the evenings
In ancient leafy woods
Where birds are tweeting and chirping
Alongside with owl’s hoots.
The squeaks from the rocking chair
On damp rainy summer days
The wind’s stroking gently white hair
Like saying: “You may still stay”.
I’m smiling at your wrinkled face
And laughing as though I’m a child,
We live at a snail’s pace,
It’s better than in twenty five.
When we’re old, weary and frail,
Let’s go to the countryside
Where the crimson sunsets
Disappear in dark night sky.