The wind is howling
in an empty place
cold and strange like eyes
that stare into a glass
covered by dust
of bygone times.

A room might be there
in that desert-home,
filled with thoughts we once loved,
filled with visions
and memories
and all things
that once were precious
to you and me.

I would like to meet you
in a better place
and a better time, too.
But now I’m here,
where I saw you last,
where I lost my heart,
where all my feelings
are caught in bygone times.

Tell me, my love, are you happy still
in arms that are not mine?
Tell me, girl, don’t you see sometimes
bygone times passing by,
slow with pain
of a touching past,
once so sacred, once so bright,
forever lost,
yet living still
in some chamber of the mind?

Oh, how much I would like you to spare
this show of fading beats
of a loving heart
lost and struggling
where the cold wind blows
across the fields
of bygone times,
yes, of bygone times, my love.

Between the pages of a history book
I found a folded page,
sheltering a drawing
scribbled down by you
while you called me on the phone.
And I saw you near, babe,
and I felt you near, babe,
and I could understand, babe,
our love is so real
and not a finished tale
buried in the dust
of history’s pages
frozen into a figure
or a monument old.

No, it is living with all its might,
our love is strong and unbroken.
And I know you feel it, too,
at the same time as I do.
Yes, I am sure
that wherever you are
and whomever you might love
and whoever loves you
you’ll know: our love
doesn’t belong
to the times of bygone ages.

                                    ~Michel Montecrossa

                                      Gauting, Germany