27 summers old,
One winter short
Of  bright sunlights.
I haven't been here before,
Now I am of age,
Soon another summer,
Or not, its all chance.
Every one is our first,
And fadingly a last.
27 summers old,
Am blessed evenly,
Of a dark right hand,
And light in the other,
To keep my heart in order.
Life in it's seasons,
Curse death, every fig has to dry,
Dry into its death.
Aw beautiful summers,
Cold winters harsh,
That is the harmony of life.

I am one, who lives by one
I am one, who rose up as one
I am one, who fell as one

But

We are many, who live as one
We are many, who rose as one
We are many, an so we still rise

I am my brothers keeper.