In reading, a lonely quiet concert is given to our minds; all our mental faculties will be present in this symphonic exaltation.

Stéphane Mallarmé

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A Child in These Hills
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I am a child in these hills
I am away
I am alone
I am a child in these hills
And looking for water
And looking for life
 
Who will show me the river and ask my name?
Is there nobody here who'll do that?
 
Well I have come to these hills
I will come to the river
As I choose to be gone from the house of my father
 
I am a child in these hills
I am a child
 
Chased from the gates of the city where no one had touched me
I am away
I am alone
I am a child in these hills
And looking for water
And looking for life
 
Who will show me the river and ask me my name?
Is there nobody here who'll do that?
 
Well I have come to these hills
I will come to the river
As I choose to be gone from the house of my father
 
I am a child in these hills
I am a child
I am a child
I am a child