A small twig falling into the rippling flow of the river path,
Distance by distance it tries to break, against the ripples that leave it a scratch,  
The small twig fights in a surrender towards its fate.  

The small twig is in a struggle that no one could face.  
The ripples are too harsh to make it go through a phase,  
Lost and back, the small twig always tries to return to the surface.  

Miracles that sometimes falter in calculation,  
Bring the small twig to a warm reception,  
The lost meaning is once again given recognition.