As long as you're far from me, my little princess, the apple of my eye, I would rouse my apnea from his long sleep...
So long as between us, you and me, there's one intruder called distance, I will call upon my inspiration.
As long as you're out my sight, I would settle with my feather, which no longer slips through my fingers.
As long as you're away, I would take leaves, and pour the ink of my pen, until my last breath, despite the vicissitudes and alias, sometimes with tears, sometimes with a smile, in a multi attitude style, light and dense, transparent and ambiguous, simple and complex.
But beyond the words and thoughts which mingle and merge, there is what is called: Nostalgia, and even more this instinct of fatherly love for you my daughter.
Merci pour la lecture!