---

Once two friends were strolling by the shore
Of a brick-red riverside.
One of them got his attention called by butterflies
Which he followed jumping
From one rock to another.
But he slept into the water.

And when the others think of him,
The tears of the night flow out
And the raining moon
Sympathise with those who grieve.
The stars draw his smile
But it makes them cry:
Its glow's too far to dry their tears.

The second boy stands all alone
By the side of a red river.
Butterflies whispered to him.
He covered his ears and fled.
He casted one last glance over his friend:
Dead leaves and branches were rippling around him.

And when the others think of him,
The tears of the night flow out
And the raining moon
Sympathise with those who grieve.
The stars draw his smile
But it makes them cry:
Its glow's too far to dry their tears.

One gleam sank to let the other fly away from danger.
Never listen to the voices which will let you drown,
No matter how soft and gentle they appear.

And when the others think of him,
The tears of the night flow out
And the raining moon
Sympathise with those who grieve.
The stars draw his smile
But it makes them cry:
Its glow's too far to dry their tears.

Stream never stops: it flows on and on
To reach the black rough sea.
The child is no more adrift.

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