Makes me sad, true, but I will not fret.
Finding my address is futile, my friend
For I dwell in the streets-
Sometimes my home is in the shades of trees
Sometimes you might find me in thatched shanties.
Truly, I am a wayfarer, akin to a rolling stone
I roam the places where the faceless homeless reside.
My friend, I struggle but find not my way home-
I dream of building a fortress with these wayward pebbles.
Friend, bleed not these wounds inflicted by your hands
Go look for my address there where a new dawn arises.
Go look towards Indonesia, Yugoslavia, Russia and China-
Know for sure my address has long been deposited in their care.
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