I planted grains in a garden
I sowed rye in a withered field
The grains in the sun are visibly dry
And likewise the rye never sprouted
It wasn't the season or the place, who knew
Either way, deep down, I tried
I made a hut with olive wood
And I liked the sandy ground
Then the roof and the bases fell apart
Spread out on the sand, the broken house
It wasn't the season or the place, who knew
Either way, deep down, I tried
One plans for projects, bridges, or plans
One plans for verses and children
I won sometimes but lost often
Who doesn't fail is not living
It wasn't the season or the place, who knew
Either way, deep down, I tried
It wasn't the season or the place, who knew
Either way, deep down
If what we planted never sprouted
Then What we planted was never lost
If what we planted never sprouted
Then I tried