Answer:
I am the first you ever saw, what greets you every morning and what goes out in the end.
They're big and yet so far away, We see them at the end of day. They're small and they're above. We see them when we close our eyes, Each time we are in love.
Which weighs more? A pound of iron or a pound of feathers?
I am neither a guest nor a trespasser in this place. I belong that belongs to me. Where is it?
This patch of land stands alone
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.