And the gypsy moves ,
from a camp to another town,
from a camp to another town,
over mountain hills
singing on the harp with a single string
a heart that beats in tune with the harp.
Sojourns, and camps,
singing on the harp with a single string
a heart that beats in tune with the harp.
Sojourns, and camps,
that's all there is
to the ties we form.
Togetherness, love and intimacy,
dreams of a night which melt with the day.
A stopover, we camp for a day and get ready
to pack our things and move away.
The road still hides in a fog
.We grope our way
through the unknown traps of destiny.
A bend, a corner, the road takes a turn
and we pause
to think
of those whom we left behind
and those who went ahead
to the ties we form.
Togetherness, love and intimacy,
dreams of a night which melt with the day.
A stopover, we camp for a day and get ready
to pack our things and move away.
The road still hides in a fog
.We grope our way
through the unknown traps of destiny.
A bend, a corner, the road takes a turn
and we pause
to think
of those whom we left behind
and those who went ahead
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