Oh, this body of mine, Let it be known that I too, move unsteadily with the wind.

Like a dandelion, plucked from the earth, To be blown east to be reborn again.

Oh, this body of mine, of mine alone, Find new land, Find new soil, To be plucked once again, depraved of foundation.

To seek foundation, is to acknowledge with one’s misfortune.

Set forth, I will not be mistaken, To find new land, across the sea, To find new soil to rest my soul.

To acknowledge one’s misfortune, is to find solace.

Oh, fair wind! Endless sky, Unbound by necessity, by obligation. Why is it that the rabbit of the north, Pick any flower it lays its eyes on?