My home is not where I live, my house is not where I was born.
My home is where I find peace, where I always want to come back.
My home is where the Sun shines with a different intensity
It is there where the air is pure and views infinite
Where the grass is green and wet… and sometimes white
My house is quiet but yet full of movement
Is where the landscape changes every season
And every corner hides a small paradise.
At night, there is silence, only broken by the gentle and fresh breeze
And theres no one in the forest.
Moving through a family path
A silhouette is trimmed in the moonlight
Its featured horns betray it
We look at each other, and he goes back to the shade of the forest.
Who could be a leaf in those trees
Observing the passage of time on the landscape
From the peaks to the valleys
I seeing occasionally, an unexpected traveller
Capercaillie, osprey, deer or chamois
Marmot, bear, eagle or partridge
Why not enjoy the ride as a traveler
Why not turn the numerous valleys and mountains
Why not enjoy the shades, meadows and peaks
Why not walk though forests of fire and Sea Lakes
Why not descend the white mountains under the caress of the wind
My home is not where I live, my house is not where I was born.
My home is where I smile, where I always want to return.
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