I see the people who raised me getting much older
On the contrary today I'm pushing their wheelchair
In the rain we run
Fresh air in our lungsI've listened to the stories of my father's father
He sits on a cloud
How I like thinking of him now
He spoke the truth
About what he knew:
"Maybe my last breath
Isn't death
But only a bridge
Guiding the next birth
Of a pearl
To my gift"It's easy to become nostalgic when I remember
That we used to go fishing on the lake
Every time he playfully told me I could have been a dolphin
I understand what he wanted to teach:"Maybe my last breath
Isn't death
But only a bridge
Guiding the next birth
Of a pearl
To my gift
I'll carry my gift...
While my essence will be flowing to
mix up again and merge into the universe
I was a stone until the wind scattered
my grains of sand all over the desert"
