I saw a leaf, torn from a branch,
Clinging to others, he refused to fall.
Detained and even embraced by the brothers,
At the farewell he sought to stroke for the last time.

The fatal wind from the valley blew,
And the father shook the maple with his hands.
I forgot about my son
As if he wasn’t a father…
Forced to die.

I can’t help you, little leaflet
I hang on a dried ponytail myself.
Let’s go with you again, there, behind the hill.
On the Road to Eternity
On a slippery bridge.