So young and so old

August 10th, 2005

The first thing I wanted was to leave far away;
in the picture-card album of resignation
we stuck the kids that hated mirrors,
Rita Hayworth’s gloves, the streets of New York.

I hardly saw an eye winking life at me
I asked her to arbitrarily make use of me,
she gave me the keys to the forbidden city
and I gave her everything I have, which is nothing.

And thus I quickly grew up, and I flew so fast
that even my own shadow lost me,
in order to erase my traces I destroyed my shirt,
I confused the neon lights with stars.

I cheated in poker, deceived my friends,
slept like a log on a bench in the park;
for saying what I think and not thinking what I say
I have been kissed many times (and slapped too).

What I know about oblivion was learnt from the Moon,
what I know from sin had to be sought
as a thief under the skirt of someone
whose name I don’t want to remember now.

And so, for now, no goodbye my fellows,
I fall asleep in the funerals of my own generation;
I invent each night, I still get drunk;
so young and so old, like a rolling stone.