The writer sits down
Pen splitting the air
Old eyes see that second
Old hands feel the moment

Through the days running memories
I remember
Forgotten histories
and distant centuries

The text begins
Tales of ancient times
come across his mind and
suddenly he feels the moment

Through the days running memories
I remember
Forgotten histories
and distant centuries

What lies in the past
some never see
The hands that wrote the seconds
The feeling, the moment

The Writer and the Painter
A dancer without partner
The Poet and the King
I see everything
in a way of floating daydream