I see the people who raised me getting much older On the contrary today I'm pushing their wheelchair In the rain we run Fresh air in our lungs I've listened to the stories of my father's father He sits on a cloud How I like thinking of him now He spoke the truth About what he knew: "Maybe my last breath Isn't death But only a bridge Guiding the next birth Of a pearl To my gift" It's easy to become nostalgic when I remember That we used to go fishing on the lake Every time he playfully told me I could have been a dolphin I understand what he wanted to teach: "Maybe my last breath Isn't death But only a bridge Guiding the next birth Of a pearl To my gift I'll carry my gift... While my essence will be flowing to Mix up again and merge into the universe I was a stone until the wind scattered My grains of sand all over the desert"