Ok, i'll translate it quickly -------- Slowly, slowly wake up, little friend. Soon the day is here, but not yet. Over the surface of memory, haze is floating. Under stone and wood debris, ice is breaking. The day is born where the ice of the night ends. Only the furthest/deepest in, finds the way out. Through twigs and debris, life is surging/sparkling. The answer to your question, the answer to your question: this life.