When my last day comes
after one last look at the world
I want no stone on top of my body
because it would feel heavy.
Find a young, strong tree
that will be my place
I want to come back even after death
under that sky people say it's God's place.
And in winter during the long rest
still alive, close to the plant
I will lie like in sleep, confident that
I'll wake up again some day in the morning.
And in spring, among a thousand calls,
we'll be still alive, [we'll be] alive again,
and I will raise my fingers like branches
towards that mysterious sky.
And in summer if the wind takes up
the invitation made by every blossoming bud
we'll wave flags made of leaves
and we'll sing the songs of life.
And so we'll live together forever
here on Earth, the tree and I
in summer and in winter, always standing out
against that sky people say it's God's place.