On a deserted place in the sea, where the coast dips sharply,
water made a cave here, one can't see from land.
In there is a chest, I owned all my life.
And it is only I know the place where it is.
The chest is a hidden one,
for all my days.
For the times I have lived,
and the times I have left.
I save all things there,
I find on my path.
Yes, the chest contains everything
I call my life.
There I have my dreams and my truths.
There I have my sorrows and broken loves.
There I have all my longings and all my laughter.
Everything is there in my chest, it is my own treasure.
And every day my chest becomes
more valuable.
Because the false rusts away
and the truth becomes gold.
Therefore, I see both clearly,
as in a picture book.
If that I find is something valuable
or only old scrap.
But I hunt after temptations,
every moonless night.
They know of my chest
and they fear its power.
So they try to seduce me,
with frivolity and fleeting splendor.
But they will destroy me
and obliterate my treasure.
But if I sell my chest,
I will know nothing more.
Then I don't know longer
what is right or wrong.
Then I miss my strength,
and then I am not a threat.
So I never give my key
to my own picture book.
No, I never give my key
to my own picture book.