The brook that can’t find way in sands
Of barren lands with haunted souls,
Oh, never does lose her hope but bends
To make her route through silver goals.
The sun who hides his rays in clouds,
In besmirched charm with dusty fumes;
Oh, never does swathe himself in shroud,
But shines again to gild his rooms.
The birds that can’t make way with sky
And soar over the mountains high,
Oh, never lose hope and cease to fly,
But dream again and keep their try!
The plant that can’t bloom tranquil flowers,
No fruits, no scents when touch her arms,
Oh, never she loses hope and powers
And scatters for aye in earth her charms!
When all such sweet things find their door
Of life when their love is gone,
Can’t you live life and dream once more,
And keep your faith, your hope go on?