Where is that hand,
That motherly embrace,
Which comforts in its ****** -
That motherly hand I can trust?

Where is that hand,
That warming caress,
Which eases the nerves -
That cocoon of soft curves?

　　There is no rest anymore
　　In thoughts of exile and escape;
　　My being is shaken to the core,
　　My soul bent under the stress.

Where is that hand,
That soothing absence,
Which cradles you gently -
That silence of calm and mercy?

Where is the hand,
That promise of better days,
Which relieves innocently -
That convincing “don’t worry”?

　　There is no rest anymore
　　In thoughts of exile and escape;
　　My being is shaken to the core,
　　My soul bent under the stress.