I'm jealous to the twisted older trees.
because there isn't a thing I twist that...

I'm jealous to this grave I slept.
because it's not my bosom where to sleep...

I'm jealous to the river creeps on earth.
because there isn't a hope for creep...

I'm jealous to the winds of gray woods.
because I've not a power to whisper...

I'm jealous to this white wide winter.
because there isn't a white spot in my spirit...

I'm jealous to the falling of my tears.
because here isn't height in the end of depths...

I'm jealous to myself of mourner.
because there isn't a mourn for myself...

I'm jealous to death is my wish.
because there isn't a death wishes me...