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The Friday Train
Don't say it is madness to walk the way from here
to the end of the world because of you:
This train is my train, love. My way to you
is not a simple way, it's not a simple way -
it is evacuation!
This city is so ruthlessly irradiated
with lack of love! Every Friday this town liberates
its constituent free atoms.
Atom physicists, beggars, poets and insane..
And if I lose,
going to you, it is only the direction. But you tell me
that in Rousse, Yambol or in Simitli, you are awaiting me, full with love,
and I will be there. The direction doesn't matter.
My point of departure is the same - return.
Your hands are my home,
raise a shelter of them
and I will be finding them always and every Friday
I will be coming back there.
Don't say its madness - with the Friday train
I'm going home.
And only if some day you are not there,
I will depart with it.
I will depart with this train.
I will depart.
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