A song I sing of wilted roses,
Scrawny shrubs and halitoses,
Lonely hermits in the dim
Such as holy Seraphim*
Looking for a lucky sign,
Kind, empathic and benign
Searching every secret grove
Every garland, every cove
Dusk to dusk, the midnight dims
Pale as Reaper, ever-grim.
Frightened on my journey right
Down through misty, eerie blight.
Troubled, on my way from home,
To your loving arms I come.

Hear me, Isi, hear my plea
Suffer thou to rescue me!