From the cradle, in cooing and cuddle
Do the strong men learn the infant heart
Farther from the rumble and beat of life full of air
Yet in distress does the labour of breath come
The humble in heart learn to live from simple to great
For if the things of the world are too many
Weighty upon heavy mind
Thus the heart burn of its well-being
As the soul, with sighs and songs, reduce to the ashes it come from
For passion in dreams awaken the sleeping best of us
And in faith with hope trailing do we find company
On this lone path pressed from side to side
The distractions of the age of our days
Divided between fragrance and frailty of failed labour of our bleeding palms
As fragments of days of old best lived
In turmoil and joy as mixed feeling
Fueling our very self with anger against life
Which have reduce into wintry eve
With the warm wind with the noon forgone
Forbidden from the moment past spent
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