Pecking the rays of the sun
Watching the falling of a tree
Stop this nonsense at once!
And swallow the flow of the sea
But wooden is the tool of fate
Drawing the dawn of my tears
Let me peck a hole in wood
And plunge myself into bliss
No longer a tree I'll call
This wooden-hearted sun in me
As a tree is what I'm now
Living the rotting of my seed
