I'm given a body — what to do with it?
It is so united and so much my own.

For the quiet happiness to breathe and live,
Tell me, to whom shall I give my thanks?

I am the gardener and the flower too,
In the world's dungeon I am not alone.

My breath, my warmth lay already down
On the window glass of eternity.

The pattern will be imprinted there
Unrecognizable from recent times.

Let the instant mud to be flown away —
The cherished pattern will be not erased.