Praise be to you, April, black patch of earth
All colors rise from your mysterious blackness
Lilacs of memory and desire, secretive lilies and primordial hyacinths

Praise be to you, round sun
For you have remained the same
Like the morning birds
who, among those human build ruins
still sing as in the cool valleys of origins

Praise be to you, anonymous worker of this land
Alchemist of the visible and the not visible

And to you, nameless form of unseen existence
Keeper of the premises of faith and silence
You, who have covered me with this blanket of dreams

I return to you that which I've stolen
I return to you my separated existence