Should the gusts of wind come this way then tell them
There’s nothing here that they could take away with them
There’s nothing here that someone could look at and think:
If only this were ours, too


There’s no traveler here, no destination,
There’s no darkness here, nor illumination, there’s nothing here
Here the burning footfalls of time are advancing one after the other
Scorching everything, enflaming everything, erasing everything,
Teaching everything that nothing is gained from living


Should the gusts of wind come this way then tell them
All these temples, these cities and villages
Are just traces of the story of life