I dreamt a wonderful dream last night,
of falcons flying above me.
Their wings were huge,
and trapped in them
were feathers that gave wishes for free.
The falcons said:
"Do not pretend, let not the wishes go in vain."
I took the feather,
and closed my eyes.
I wished to climb a mountain.
On top I'd go,
and down I'd see,
what's lost of the world,
and of me.
On top,
I'd see the birds fly by
and kiss the stars at night.
Or perhaps wake up
to touch the clouds,
and again look down with a sigh,
at the boundaries that surround the world,
and oh the hatred that I'd see!

I opened my eyes and blew the feather,
with a gush of wind it flew.
up in the sky it went,
as if to touch a mountain the falcons knew.

I woke up this morning,
with a sigh again.
The dream I had was lost.
If only falcons flew above me,
and feathers granted wishes for free,
I'd surely climb a mountain top to find out,
what's lost of the world,
and of me.