I asked the wind, the flyer,
Restive horse with cloud as rider
Running unto world’s blue shore:
Where are those who aren’t anymore?
Where are those who aren’t anymore?

Said the wind: Their wings I didn’t saw
But felt all over through my flow.

I asked the skylark, the frail,
Votive light lulling in the air
The hymn’s victor:
Where are those who aren’t anymore?
Where are those who aren’t anymore?

Said the skylark: They hid inside
That unlimited one’s magic light.

I asked the owl with spherical eyes,
The blind that see through dark and spies
Mysteries untold by the word’s core:
Where are those who aren’t anymore?
Where are those who aren’t anymore?

Said the owl: Without fail
The great night will unveil