The birds, the rivers and the streams she will forever
create
But who can really try and guess the next move she will
make,
Maybe she’ll cast a bold of lightning or maybe strike a
fire,
She can make everything turn to snow, if her hearts desire.
It’s she, who makes the lake icy in winter,
And it’s she who makes the pine trees splinter.
It’s her, who makes the flowers grow,
And it’s her who transforms the rain into snow.