My great fear from where it comes?

And where it goes out, I don't know.



It's look like sand in a bosom.

It's look like burning hair.



My great fear from where it comes

And where it goes out, I don't know.



May be the north wind brings

it with itself

And maybe I'm a tree

And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate.



It's look like sand in a bosom.

It's look like burning hair.



Maybe I drink it with water

running from my vein.

And maybe I'm a tree

And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate.