If everything turns round and round in circle,
Then I’ll be back for sure, without fail.
But will there be another me or blizzard,
Or shall I spill as light and scattered rain,
Or shall I come and burst as pretty rose bud
That grew in wood above some trickling spring?
No... it's an awful lot to rise again as blossom,
As whiff and puff, and breath of gentle breeze ...
If everything turns round and round in circle,
And if I'm back again to follow earthly way,
Then only in the arms of dearest loved one
Shall I agree to breathe in life again.