Demoiselle, demoiselle, demoiselle that demoiselle
Don't think that it is wounded and can't fly anymore
It's wing was attached to migratory cloud
It tells me -in the past-to me -in the present-
Don't go on the paths
Don't climb that mountains, don't go that prairies, that green plain
Everything succumbs to the time
We had grown and the world got dirty
Demoiselle, demoiselle, demoiselle that demoiselle
Don't think that it is wounded and can't fly anymore
It's wing was attached to migratory cloud
One day it comes back,
lands it's home
Don't go on the paths
Don't climb that mountains, don't go that prairies, that green plain
Everything succumbs to the time
We had grown and the world got dirty
Demoiselle, demoiselle, demoiselle that demoiselle
What was left -belongs to here- except skies
What is left to tomorrow, next generations
Everything is gone on the kites
Don't go on the paths
Don't climb that mountains, don't go that prairies, that green plain
Everything succumbs to the time
We had grown and the world got dirty