Fast-wing aircraft silhouettes I will not see from the window of the panel cage I hear my neighbors fighting I see how children play on the site My morning in the crowd of rushing sleepers In the head of a picture of dreams so sullen This morning is bleak even if the coffee is sweeter Every morning my youth melts Airplanes airplanes Only birds with clouds in the sky Your hands are as tender as you can Planes sleep in hangars this memory Memory with beads of sweat on hot skin