To evergreen fields of my youth I will sing My steps left no footprints behind No fruit of the harvest lent weight to my pockets Small knowledge was stowed in my mind
Now youth has forsaken this old man My seasons are numbered by three No seeds have been sown in the plowed fields No harvest is waiting for me
A cripple for life is the fate of the loner No fruit will be borne by his tree These foughts pierce my mind while in echoes of memories A young voice too late calls to me
Come run through my dream fields,you old man Search beyond your windowsill Go touch my high moutains and valleys Come sleep 'neath my evergreen fields