The sun is shinning in this early morning,
'though there's no blue in the sky;
the heaven is white as the air keeps thick and foggy
and the mercy of God is all about other place, long away from here.

The people of these ages, I feel for them,
the sacred meal will never be served unless time is broken;
this cyclical feeling is almost fading among foolishness,
trifles from a life that we could be living never again.

From particles of a mystery, ashes that'll never put out themselves,
and not even one day we'll mix remembrances away,
but if you lay down your thoughts on perfection,
you'll never look to the small pieces that are still incomplete.

Just don't bother about me, I'm just a bird who's singing by the mist,
and your eyes can't capture the moment when it flies,
but your hands can hold the feathers before falling in vain,
like Phoenix, I'll be gone but, perhaps, I could be back for you again.

I don't know who's the server anymore, can't know anymore,
the creature and the maker are both of them my thoughts, I'm lost;
for that reason I'll keep some of your smile with me,
some like beacons, that'll keep my helm safe above the sea.

My sacred Lord be with me, I ask for our favorite thing:
my soul, one highest pleasure for having you here within,
my steps are counted by the same tracks of paths where you were on;
and I can't avoid coming towards you someday, unexpected, 'though very well-known.