Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground, And while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss, An hour long you'll have to look, And to recover what we took. But past an hour - the prospect's black Too late, it's gone, it won't come back. Мы тебе шлем зов чудесный, На земле мы не поем. Ведь дан тебе один лишь только час, Чтоб найти, что скрыто у нас.