He wipes the dried flakes of soil from his face as he comes to life.
He is called to his task in the air.
Rises, he rises.
With tireless love he takes his chair.

Angels touch his skin
Which glistens in the golden glow
Of an orb that burns eternal,
Or as long as lives a soul.

A new day begins
When Helio pulls the sun
In the employment of Saturn
For the service of all and one.

Would the world get by without him?
Would the day be ever long?
He never pauses to wonder
When he pulls his chariot along.

There never is a day
He thinks they should give praise.
Love means that he does the task
Without a question to be raised.

Rarely given Helio
Is a thanking for the light;
For bringing them the sun
Until the time of night.