On the high hill sits an old man
his eyes are staring down his mind is calm
His sight he will soon turn ot the sky in the while
when the last page of that strange book he has finished reading
In the distance he hears the clear and ringing laughter of a child
He knows child well, better than its mother
Child knows him as well,
their hearts have elected shared path
Old man and child - old man and child
Both they are the elements of one life
Yet their sights have never met
and won't ever meet,
as rough waters can never be the calm ones at the same time
In that land that I was given to keep they live
their lives being teachers one to another
Celestial orchestra will begin to play when
my mouth begins to speakto you by their joint language,
as mother speaks to her child
and then your tears shall be wiped
you tear-stained ones