Would that I had become the eyes of blind one
And might have I seen what he wanted to see
Would that I had become the touch sense
And might have conveyed the message
To those who wanted to touch and feel
Would that I had become the tongue of a dumb one
And might have I made the speech what he wanted to speak
Would that I had become the ears of a deaf one
And might have I heard what he wanted to listen
O, chirping of birds
Whispering of morning air
I often think!