Do tell me,

Have the nights become quiet with no echos or croon

Has the blue sky suddenly become gray?

Now the Dinzia Exelsa has outgrown the forest, it can no longer be helped 

Indeed mischief can lead to destruction 

Do tell me,

Was the gift presented a blessing or a curse

Did it bring peace or did things suddenly become worse

I, Prometheus, who granted you this gift, can no longer sit behind glass whispering to the mountain bird 

I must guide you on the right path

In which we become one with nature

Making the source we use last forever, 

To cherish the smallest workers in the ground and the trees that thrive above us

For they are the ones that nourish us