I’m finally a bride
Marching with my fellow passers-by
Towards nowhere
Treading upon odor-breathing grass
My comrades, why does your skin look so tired
So blue?
Why do you travel in boxes, carrying alongside
The timid mourning of your loved-ones
Why won’t you flirt with me?

I’m not going to marry that filthy old boy
His lack of imagination
His lack of strength
Oh…!
But I am still keeping my dress
I feel so …precious in it,
Tell me…
Isn’t that strange looking girl
Traveling in her old rusty box
Looking at me with envy?

Why is she moving?
Waving at me while the others are still
Why can her lifeless limbs perform such actions?
Should I run?
She looks gentile, but yet trapped
Appearing in all those strange places
As my look wanders by
…who am I?
Why don’t I have a box?
To lay my tired legs in it,
Why must I keep my fancy dress
In continuous movement?

It’s almost night
We keep on marching through narrow streets now
I’m flirting…
My dress moves by itself…
I’m laughing playing with the shadows around me...
I’m dancing
I’m a bride…
I’m young in the narrowing passage…
Coming closer to you,
Smile to me,
Let the silence dry behind us..