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Whether fate has been set hill to be in the hilly plain? And did she give me the dream, strange, like a bird flying? I kept on my fingers and seek to see the wings, but I could not even get there at the foot of the top. And he was raised in front of me cloaked with mist. Rained out by storms with a zest, but with necklaces from the stars. He had passed, it was a peak, again a song in his debut. Her echo echoed, too then I flew. In my dew I was immersed and I swallowed my breath. To fly without wings it was supposed to be your peak.