What spirit drives the thunderbolts?
Whence comes the fury of the rivers,
What feeds the winds, what fount
Supplies the immeasurable ocean?
What pathway of the sun hastens
Or draws out the course of night?
Long have my own birds sung my doom,
And tears bedewed my face,
Reflecting tracks remaining in heaven,
And the zephyrs path gleams bright.
‘Tis you, forever, and always,
My true delight!