The feeling of poverty in the temple returns
call sugared incense.
They are worldly illusion, you do not comfort
never get if you make a nest on top of them.
Rise up over the years streetcars track.
Cold is Helsinki's busy laptop.
Time cycles pulsing traffic,
I surrender , recline in front of Linnanmäki.
It's time to grow up to take root in the ground to catch,
my home somewhere else, I drafted,
Helsinki, you only write serenardi.