Лет этак в сорок. Звучит как эпитафия. Но, может, это он просто проникся.
скакалки, как водится, принимаются с благодарностью.
Always proud of your Vitesse
You admire their race.
You remember your young years
When you had another place
Now - that's experience to share
I would make a time machine
To make you smile, to make you win
Again
But how can I?
Your ten years were too fast
Fast to win and short to last
Both mistakes and happy eyes
Now all this is only dust
Who can guess what was your price
I would make a time machine
To see what I have never seen
Just once
But how can I?
Now I remember your calm voice
Telling me about my choice
With your French accent, your strange stress;
The same that gave a shy response
"Well, thank you all, I did my best"
I would make a time machine
To see you young not on a screen
Again
But how can I?