My child,
the sea brings you,
the wave cradles you,
fire dresses you.
And your feathers are warm,
grain of wheat.. .
thin cloud,
small hands;
and where you will be
I bring you the sea,
if the sea is dry,
my gift it's rain...
But sleep your rest,
and I will give you the wind,
if the wind is a storm
I will chase it away.
But sleep and don't think,
you will have a dog friend,
and he will bark at the moon
and the toads in the ditch
and your field of dahlias
and the pine tree< br/>and the shadow of its branches...
But tell me the pains
because you already know.

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