Death has no feet It is thicker than wind, but full of water It has no eyes, but remembers with its whole body.

It feels and finds life, If you leave a scratch in the green spring, winter comes, and in that long winter, the tears that hold life wait in the ice The wind has no feet, so the soft and smooth body of death.

If we could see everything, Would see that the living are struggling with open arms Death is not black, but crystal clear And to see everything, we have to close our eyes.