Shaman has three hands
And a wing over his shoulder
By the breath of his
A candle flares up
And sometimes him himself
Him himself does not know
A wide open heart
Toils and sings
Shaman has three hands
The world around as a dark room
On palms of gold
Painted eyes
He sees a pink dawn
Before the sun itself
And he seemed asleep
And does not know anything
Shaman has three hands
Garden in ruby rays
From breathing of his flares, flares ...