Lying here on the lukewarm earth under the old olive trees
A single sunbeam on the brow
Scented air and memories
Shall I return to life again or should I rest here til the end
The ruins of a legend gone become reality so strong

Accompanied by the ancient gods I wander swiftly through the ages
A shimmering army of fire flies illuminates my reveries
I see men building pyramids and others burning witches
I hear a jubilating choir and lions roaring in the midst

Sitting on the banks of the eldest river of this world
A floating nutshell comes along
It carries an eternal flame
Thou tiny light bring our memories into all the coming times
And let my people not forget
That sorrow and joy are made of the same wood