The hairs on your ass, couloured by gold, the boughs hang low.
Picking rape blossoms, and leaving there, a red shoe. Or, sin committed rape blossoms, leave her and her red shoe.
Also to the blind, a tattle by a lion, the Japanese lute can be played. Or, also to the blind, a tattle by a lion, like the sound of Japanese lute it makes.
On the first spring storm in this year, Den Standhaftige Tinsoldat, to run for their genocide.
The party was over, lost your master, the iron claw did.