The trees are gone 

The seashore is lit by the shadows of sharks

I don’t want to go home

Where tables and chairs are empty

And walls echo from the distance

A charming song for no one to hear 

A blizzard for the bespoken lie

It is I who speak the depths of cosmos

It is I who dares to see the light

The wisdom is chosen by the 

Slow running stream

Don’t ever chase nightmares for horseback rides,

don’t drink from the fountain of youth –

The dream will end when there’s no more of it.