Whenever someone gives you a sorrow
Name that sorrow, 'daughter',
When my grey hairs appear
Laughing around your cheeks, your can weep
On the sorrow of my dream, you can sleep

Those fields which are yet to grow
In those fields
I see your brassiere too.

I was afraid
But only the first time, daughter
How many are the times I felt afraid daughter

Trees hide the archers who lie in wait for you
You were my birth, daughter
And your birth, your daughter will be

In the desire to bathe you
My fingertips spit blood.