In April, when the softest flowers bloom
I find myself in my room

Staring at the celieng
Feeling every sort of feeling

In Summer, when green covers all
I'm happy and relaxed, above the squall

Lying on the countryside, every bit at ease
Flying through the meadow amoung the honey bees

In September, when Autumn touches trees
And all around, the wind is filled with leaves

I stand alone at a cross roads
Lost in numbers and codes

When, in December, the frost comes
And I'm lost in endless dolldrums

Slowly I release a sigh
And with that final breath I die