Oh, my flame, how did you come to doubt,
The light of you to which I am devout,
Be enamoured of faith a little more,
Trust your human hands have God's gift raw,
Dreaming is a gift given to all,
Imagination hath us rapt in thrall,
Its suppression the righteous mind appal,
Imagine the people, imagine them all,
Thy laurels and thy psalms are sweet devotions,
That stimulate my heart in loving motions,
Love to fathom pure and wide as oceans,
Transcends border, language and nation,
The real Beauty, not me, but people's tongue,
Through which dreams of freedom sweetly sung,
Forget not angels going in disguise,
The poor and sick, to them my lullabies.