When I'm alone there is like a thought covering me, it passes 'cross my pains away; so
Remains the things only. It doesn't exist mountain, pasture, plain that can't bring me back
From where I was when I was born. I'm here now, where wordless trees and orchards watch
And count my tears one by one; wait, wait for back again, I hear: they speak a fairy language
And I feel in what God created some hope growing: maybe I can start back, I'll talk one day
What He wrote in my soul, the naked true that I'm not agree to testify to men, to myself again.
