A poem from Paris

Tekst: Sondre Knutsen



When you fell to the heights,

with the absence of nights.

It was simply Paris and the lights

give it a go and you will find me alone

on the top of Sacré-Coeur.

 

Enjoying the day, drifting away,

with a pen in my hand

in a singular band.

Making memories hatched in paper.

 

Give me this chance to do right with a Dance.

The room will be made with a simple brigade.

 

Morning and night, all the same.

 

For me it's life.

 

For some a game.

Tidsskriftet A