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A grassland as wide as the sky clouds

In the white order sheep are grazing

A faithful dog runs, watches over the flock

A black one turned up, quite a maverick

She wants to measure the world by herself Disobey precepts

Not to mindlessly believe in what wise men say

She wants to lie in the sun and look ahead

She wants to run in the grasslands, not get up in the morning

Open the gate I'll go alone

Others explain to her that it can’t be that way

The Lord of truth says, without him she will be lost

That she's probably sick today

That she doesn't understand anything

That she feels bad, that this is not the way to do things

A grassland as wide as the sky clouds

In the white order sheep are grazing

The stench is rising, something is drying in the sun

So that everyone feels the simple order

If you don't listen you'll end up on the fence