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QUIEN SABE?, FR. PETER BROWN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The breeze of the evening that cools the hot air
Last Line: If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?


THE breeze of the evening that cools the hot air,
That kisses the orange and shakes out thy hair,
Is its freshness less welcome, less sweet its perfume
That you know not the region from which it is come?
Whence the wind blows, where the wind goes,
Hither and thither and whither -- who knows?
Who knows?
Hither and thither -- but whither -- who knows?

The river for ever glides singing along,
The rose on the bank bends a-down to its song;
And the flower, as it listens, unconsciously dips,
Till the rising wave glistens and kisses its lips.
But why the wave rises and kisses the rose,
And why the rose stoops for those kisses -- who knows?
Who knows?
And away flows the river -- but whither -- who knows?

Let me be the breeze, love, that wanders along,
The river that ever rejoices in song;
Be thou to my fancy the orange in bloom,
The rose by the river that gives its perfume.
Would the fruit be so golden, so fragrant the rose,
If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?
Who knows?
If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them? Who knows?





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