Ruhum kök salmış bu dünyaya Teslim olmuş şu açlığa Ruhum kök salmış bu dünyaya Teslim olmuş şu açlığa, doymaz asla Savruldum ben oradan oraya durmadan Bitmek bilmez bu samsaram Artık yeniden doğamam Fifty-two years ago Frankie stepped outside In her balcony, through the gazing stars Ashes of that feather in her palms Can't even she sighs, stumbling On a rock, too much too there It is a more aware a unit, a unit breathes along with ease Trips up others just by standing still It's trapezium corners Just a unit Frankie spacing her mouth claimed quietly "I won't be able to able anymore Fifty-two years on a belly Boiled to three hundred degrees I cannot be born anymore..."