Anguish and again, grief.
With tears on my broad cheek
I droop thinking of the ascent of my bird’s beak.
My lark’s voice is not yet broken
The songs are still in me then.
I look at the horizon of life
And how I intend to end all this strife.
With the new world, in my dream
That will come to pass, ‘he new realm.
But my drooping has a meaning,
My thought’s sieve is now leaking.
With all these aims and ambition,
But what if my dreams go into extinction.
Even right before I achieve it.
What if my future and fate do not meet.
What if before I achieve what I’m aiming
At, what if I die young?
Who will continue this legacy?
Won’t this be regarded to as a pure fallacy?
What if my ambitions are vilify
Because of my death, won’t they be falsified?
Before I can enjoy my psychic income
With my lark’s songs, all, with their freedom.
What if fate deprives me of these all
And ‘efore my ambitions fulfilled, seek for my fall.
Who will share this dream with me?
Who will wish to enact it like me?
Who will help to continue my lark’s song
If I die young?