Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.

Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.

The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.

To the birds you gave songs, the birds gave you songs in return. You gave me only a voice, yet asked for more, thus I sing.