At the side window of the bedroom,
I saw a church, a sign of glory,
I saw a white wall and a bird flying,
I saw a great one, an old sign.
As a natural messenger of natural conditions,
when I spoke about these grieving colors,
when I spoke about these unpleasant people,
when I spoke about this storm,
you didn't hear.
You don't want to believe,
but this is so ordinary.
You don't want to believe
I was standing here,
as a low-standard knight washing himself by the riverside,
as a black-colored knight who was experiencing these mysteries,
as a knight and mister of the houses and the trees
without the desire to rest on Sundays.
A low-standard knight washing himself by the riverside,
I met these towers and their cemeteries,
I met those people and theirs funerals,
while watching from the side window
of the bedroom.
You don't want to believe,
but this is so ordinary.
You don't want to believe,
but this is so ordinary.
A low-standard knight washing himself by the riverside
is what you don't want to believe.