Smoke breathe... Finger the strings of trees...
Shalt echo with lonesome groan
Then calm down
Does someone know?...

Would Flame fade or not, the flame that
Yet scarcely breathing with life sparks?
Is this existence worthless or not?
Who is a keeper of that wisdom?

To where the Shadows abscond
From the heat of burning Sun?
For whom the rains weeping?
What does cliffs and steeps keeping silent about?

What does wind whispering to the weeds,
Sweeping down their silvery dew?
Where the Snow and Lightnings were born?
Many stars are in Firmament, - but is it enough?!

Thus speak the Smoke, though did someone hear?!
He answered although no one asked...
Still sang to himself with the groan of branches...
Clouds listened to Him,
Mother Earth heard that chant.