An Acorn in the Middle of Pine Woods

My seeds are brown
and my cases are torn
I frown like a tiny acorn
In the middle of pinewoods I mourn

Beneath the void I wait
From the raindrops beat I avoid
Deep through the soil I reveal
High to the hill I appeal

My, I must have been insane
For Terho is my call
and Männistö is where I fall
Nevertheless,

I am.