Between the seashore's rocks you'll find a dwelling
My poor friend! And listen to the sound of the wind
And rain, that will provide you fortune telling...
Oh, don't you hear in the sounds of them a tiny hint?
The hint is hunting you on the icy road
And the icy road of life will limp on into early spring
When rooks will laugh at you from trees, aloud:
"It's only our song you are allowed to sing!"
The hint whisper's don't deny existence
On the autumn road, life is full of ruts
Still many different birds will call you from a distance
"The only chosen song you are allowed to sing, you must!"
So listen with patience to the hint of spring in your icy dwelling,
When many different birds suggest your fortunes - telling!