He waits for the midday wind
The wave comes and dies down
With a fan every day
The old man makes the water smooth
I throw the stone for fun ¾
The water moves in circles
The old man looks at me sadly
And has swept it smooth again
In the white sand the old man
His trembling The pipe is smoking
Only the water and I know
Why he needs this fan
The idea sleeps like a volcano
I'm hesitant then gegrat
With his head tilted it seemed he was sleeping
Did he saw before he died
The water should be your mirror
Only when it is smooth will you see
How many fairy tales are left for you
And you will beg for salvation
With the fan pressed to your body
In the spasm of death your hand freezes
They measured his fingers to break
The fan is lying back in the sand
I call the old man every day
He wants to kill me here ¶sen
I stay behind in the midday wind
And in the fan I can read
The water should be your mirror
Only when it is smooth will you see
How many fairy tales you still have left
And you will beg for salvation
The water will be your mirror
Only when it is smooth will you see
How many fairy tales you still have left
And you will beg for salvation

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