What would you wish to be, my friend?
A bird, a dove, a tree, my end.
Too high to fly, the wind below.
I wash my hopes, what tragic blows.
As I fall, I pass you by.
My friend, my hope, alas, goodbye.
I will not cling on my descent.
The sun, so high, may boil my breast.
I wish the storm will pass me by.
My friend, how would I say goodbye?
What should I leave on the shoreline?
A bird, a dove, a t...
