The sun goes down / East next morn, it rises up again The moon comes up / West next morn, we'll see it sink below The cracks fill out arid rock and through the soil Next year's raindrops will wet them as they land The shrubs deep in the sands are dried and die And springs below will bring them back to life Mother, do not let your cries roll down My jacket is not to be stained with tears Father, do not keep your brow so firm My cap is not to learn the scent of smoke Brother, oh Brother Play your wooden flute no more I cannot walk with restless heart And soon I'll be a tender flower small To rest in Mother's hair, with smile so faint And soon I'll be a beastling strong and tough To carry Father east, so far away Brother, oh Brother Play your wooden flute again And soon I'll be a pebble on the ground The wind will blow me round and round Back to your side to roll about —A ballad passed down in song through the Anasa tribes in Yan's western parts. Reportedly, when loved ones pass away, the entire tribe will sing this at the place they've been buried. On every patient's passing since her arrival at Rhodes Island, Jieyun has visited the deck to sing out this ballad for them.