How can a man like me understand one who is warm? 

I know no warmth. 

Nor do I have a clue about living, 

or life, 

or any of this grandiose love of work. 

I am the stone, 

which falls silently through water, 

and creates no movement. 

I am a part of the silent sand. 

Our voice goes unheard, 

as you enjoy the refinement of our demise.