Look at the play of this world,
Thirty years, I have been seeing,
Dropping the curtain of eyelashes to dream,
But never have I experienced the bliss,
Of seeing the world inside,
Or felt the breeze with closed eyes,
Or thrown a pebble and watched the ripples,
It now seems the blind,
Have been blessed with sight.
Thirty years, look at the play,
Not a whisper
Of this new world,
Older than time,
Yet, I walk this unknown place,
As if I was born here.