Nostalgia drifts but never recedes entirely
Memories of my own land,
Whispers from the past

Lonely hammocks of sweet remembrance
The desolation of growing old
Far from home, so many people, ever alone

Walking still in the dreams of the foreigner
Amazed at his recklessness
Bored by his cleverness

Do old friends in lands now foreign to me
Look sadly too at this same watery sun?

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