Sleepily begotten of the forest,
A woman who lives among the ferns,
Plants are to you dearest.

Of silently dripping water droplets,
Off the honeydew suckle,
A sylvan goddess, I promise.

The company of people almost seems foreign,
When the billowing flowers seem to speak,
O how the earth has forgotten.

Where the forest you belong,
Return to your wooded home,
Too soon you are gone.