The hill has wrapped herself in a shawl,
She looks like a fairy — calm, enchanting.
Streams run through her veins —
But they carry sorrow, not life.
Everyone wants to climb the hill,
Just as everyone longs to possess her.
But what she desires —
No one has cared to know.
You say —
“She’s just the same as before.”
But you had seen —
When human footsteps
Trampled her spirit.
Now she stays silent —
Yet her silence cries out.
She watches —
Still hoping someone will understand.
