Playing the hand without you,
existing without you: not them.
The luck of having you.

What reaches you, alien
says he. The people, their country.
You make them happy.

They could not be them.
They only marvelous,
what luck, and you just
perfect, dressed in light.

For certain, you save them
from guards without bodies
these guards in goose step
who fall into step with them.

New world so new
that you don't know if you like it.
But where, if that reaches you
it suits you to be human.

And as dressed in light
it suits you better to be
in your human skin.