Clouds, take me into your arms
let cold, take grip of my veins -
giving me life that comes after death,
Rebirth will make of me a crow.
Not mynah nor peacock nor parrot
nor gentle lovely snow white dove -
For my thoughts shall always be as dark,
as the dark coarse feathers of the crow.
I shall live on the highest mountain
on its highest coldest peak;
Solitude there is what I shall find,
and that is the food I seek.
And someday, I shall fall down to earth
come, fellow friends, rip me apart-
For though mother Nature claims my flesh
up in the cloudy skies soars my heart.