Some other world's heavy shadows fell
Goods of a tiring hill and the evil news
It's too late to doubt what's in our consciousness
Our entire lives, words were stealing us away.
A failed love of the eye and the trembling illusion
Is moving me to a much warmer neighborhood
Where words have a value of fate and subconscious
Where almighty are the shadows, and all the things are small.
Once I go blind, where will everything lead me?
May the children who owe it to the world to grow up be born
Solely for the purpose of the secret which hides in near sight.
Oh, you flute, restless in your own air,
When I gift the evil spirit with the sun of the imagined fire,
What is hiding at the bottom of the song?
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