I go forth from my dwelling Still drowsed with sleep; A light rain Patters on my hands. But a breath of the dawning Not my due Clothes me and blends with The last of my dreams. And as a sigh From a happy spirit, So pure a breathing Spreads through the heavens That my heart is pierced With the memory Of mornings long before When I went forth. The days of my youth Are all but over; Many of life's falsehoods No more impose on me. But still I am moved Strangely, strangely, When this gleaming Lights my way forth, When on rainy mornings The sky still breathes Its cry of hope I do not understand. |