From a beaded wallet
A gold coin, a silver coin, a copper coin

Ice cream in a paper cup
I scoop it up with a thin wooden spoon
Somebody will come to play with me
In a weak voice, someone is calling me

(Wind blows in a field   Small flowers tremble)

A train on top of a hill
Under a bright, cloudy sky
The passengers are dreaming

It was sent by airmail
Arrived with a post card
A dream that raises glass towers
It was delivered in the sky

The ground is far away   Before long, it settles
Enveloped in the color of snow,
Inside my mouth

All by myself, I eat it
As my ice cream becomes empty
From the tops of clouds, I can see it
Smaller and smaller...