Why are the most expansive hearts,
Limited by the conveyance of words,
There is only that interval of time,
To which the soul must be heard.
The birds are many over the land,
No wonder anymore the grace to fly,
The fifth day and this day be theirs,
And the sixth and the rest be mine.
Whether the raven parts the air lost,
Or the dove reveals a better way,
Still the sea never ceases to toss,
And the waves fall over the bay.
Beauty, the earth that brings forth life!
And the strength of toilers under sun,
Each sent forth into the waves,
May forge new paths to freedom.
So quick does warm summer turns frosty cold,
And faster the sun that cracks the ice,
Heed with caution the visions revealed,
Where does the dark turn to light?
It is the destiny, it is the will,
To raise the soul to the highest peak,
And from the first words e’er spoke,
We were blessed with life to be.