My eyes do not want to pour more tears.
Because they live once.
Time goes slowly, the red oxen to a wagon.
Look at the current rust clockwise.
How many things I have left out
or left them next to the blue at the bottom of a lake,
in a single life,
And how many times I’ve lost in the mist,
thinking in birds who dream of capercaillie.
My desires are not already abandoned nests only in my heart. The sun is a weak wheel.
Let me hear no more, look, do not think,
This is the only life, do not lose it, do not walk
and fell anymore,
I want to be like stones,
It is just the place where centuries & seconds cross:
so-called far away homeland.
Ps: If someone could improve the literal translation, I would appreciate it.