I want this day to come to its end,
let’s play hopscotch until tomorrow
and see how far the winds will send
the sand grains the hourglass borrow.
Winds blow too strong for a flower
to stand openly on the grass field,
The oak’s shadow has the power
to keep her safely under his shield.
A wolf’s pack howls on the street
marching towards the shoreline.
They will continue until the summit
tints the ocean’s face with dark wine.
As two worlds collide with rage,
we will wait for tomorrow to come,
within the walls of our cottage,
we will wait for tomorrow to come.