Oh’ Great Mountain, reaching far into the sky!

Oh' Great Mountain, reaching far into the sky!

How long will you find satisfaction in self love?

Though just a tiny butterfly, I am yet free,

To dance on a flower head while you remain shackled.

I am the bitter fruit falling upon the earth.

Thus in the clutches of time I remain.

O spring of liberty! Your grace, what else it could be

But to render this bitter fruit sweet?

What, Alas, has been my joy from the cup of life?

Like a candle burning in the blowing wind,

I tremble, I burn,... I die.