To evergreen fields of my youth I will sing
My steps left no footprints behind
No fruit of the harvest lent weight to my pockets
Small knowledge was stowed in my mind

Now youth has forsaken this old man
My seasons are numbered by three
No seeds have been sown in the plowed fields
No harvest is waiting for me

A cripple for life is the fate of the loner
No fruit will be borne by his tree
These foughts pierce my mind while in echoes of memories
A young voice too late calls to me

Come run through my dream fields,you old man
Search beyond your windowsill
Go touch my high moutains and valleys
Come sleep 'neath my evergreen fields