Now,

My wish is
To become the Wind,

For
On this flesh of mine,
A shadow dancer arises,
To be such a purge
For my eyes;

I only feel Thirst
For the Purest and the Naked,
For my body doesn't
Reclaim
The wisdom,
Of any new religion;

A Maid aspires to be a Kore;
A Kore aspires to be a Mother;
A Mother aspires to be the World;

Even the slightest tardiness
Demands
To be aware of by,

As well as a single coin
Craves
To be deep-felt within;

There isn't any materialistic meaning,
Except the one that,
Everyone puts on,

For the Circle turns around,
To let the sun arise,
To make any Conscience waking up.