twelfth cycling trip

Again I hear my voice. Again my mouth speaks. Again I have a tongue. Again I speak to you. Again I know it's you. Even though all day all I’ve done is lie down-hearted because I haven’t seen you for an immemorial time. The line of complainants haven’t waned though, they kept coming one after another with an unflagging zeal, and I patiently but grimly listened to them and just nodded. But most of all I shook my head in horror over what the world had become. When they left, Safet stepped out from behind the curtains, he brought a bicycle in his hands, he looked at me, but didn’t ask anything. I didn’t ask him anything either of where he had found it, I know he always gets what I need. I got on it, found you, took you by the hand, seated you on the handle-bar, and escaped with you from among the walls. I’d love the most to be with you always, but I rarely have the opportunity: the looks keep me in custody, everywhere secret servants chase after my secret. Actually, those who were my servants have now become my guards. I had to pedal for a long time to make you safe, to know that no-one was following, and that no-one recognizes us. I rode across the market in full speed and I didn’t stop until the edge of the city. In the meantime, you hugged me and kept continuously whispering in my ear “tickle tickletickle tickletickle, I adore you”. Again I hear my voice. Again my mouth speaks. Again I have a tongue. Again I speak to you. Again, I know it's you.