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Sometimes the silver thread seems to

trace a bitter ground.

But I never stopped believing in myself.

I have not tasted wisdom from your grave.

But I have embraced wisdom myself.

I hold winter and autumn in my hands.

I have come to conceive hopelessness many times from the wings of a dove.

Carried through flames

jumping and coiling.

I'm there.

Sometimes I want to disappear.

Mother you have felt this.

There is a new sky for us,

beyond this mountains, a vast field

with green and oil.

flowers beneath a cascade,

warm air,

big sun.

We have to wait a little bit longer.

Stay with me as I will always need you.

These clouds that we are looking at today

Are not the same clouds that will carry us tomorrow.