| After ten rainy summers |
| And nine destructive winters |
| There was hardly nothing left |
| But a bare and sore ground |
| Lite a stripped and dried out soul |
| Without body and skin |
| And the cold wind blew the hazel trees |
| And the cold wind blew the hazel trees |
| Reminding them of how old they are |
| Suddenly a force from above |
| Silenced the elegy |
| It was at the end of the day |
| It was at the end of the day |
| Although the beginning of a new and bright tomorrow |
| Deus ex machina… |
| After ten rainy summers |
| And nine destructive winters |
| There was a last sudden gust of wind |
| Before the life and freshness again |
| Touched every heart, mind and soul |
| And the comfortable summer breeze |
| Played with the green leaves of the hazel trees |
| Reminding them of how young |
| And beautiful they are |
| Echoing a sorrowless future to come |
| They thought about their lives |
| How satisfying they were |
| And they spoke with happy childlike voices |
| After ten rainy summers |
| And nine destructive winters |
| Deus ex machina… |
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