The sunset reddens,
and the day is ending
at the river dock.

The sound of the bell travels
down the deep valley,
and the river travels alongside it.

The night of suffering is more painful
than rolling down the long road,
and gives birth to a mountain of silence.

If I call out to life into the clear sky,
it echoes back perfectly to the hill
upon which I am standing.

And my heart is drenched
with all suffering.

The sound of the bell follows
the wind, and the river follows
alongside it.

Your singing is like the agonizing waves,
as time swirls and stops at the dock.

The river dock pulls forth the dream
once again, today.