ورای یک ذهن منطقی

In my village,

They say that musicians

Have a secret contract

With a mermaid

For their music

To be heard more than always

If they want to know

How long the agreement lasts

From a dark field

They must pick

Handfull of quinine

To the mermaid they must give

So she starts counting

Until it lasts

They say each grain

Means a year

So, when the mermaid

Finishes counting

She takes the musician and

Through him to the sea

But my mother says, says, says

Quinine grains

Are too difficult to count

And the mermaid gets worn out

So the musician can,

Forever

Can embrace their gift