The yesterday gazes at your back
And you never forget
You always speak to what there was
Long are the roots of fear
You slowly pace around the world
And you are prickled by many thorns
Is it a rose or a thorn in your flesh
From which you are created?
Guard your soul from the abyss
And from the fearful height
Guard your soul from your despair
Do you hear
A soul and a dread, a soft tissue [or: a delicate fabric]
The little girl who couldn't sleep
The woman leans her head
A strange bird had passed in her dream
On the clarity of your skin, the day shines
Like an awaited touch
Now you are able to see yourself
Receiving a sign of grace
Guard your soul from the abyss...
A soul and a dread, a soft tissue [or: a delicate fabric]
The little girl who couldn't sleep
The woman leans her head
A strange bird had passed in her dream