Sun replaces storms and dew sweeps cold winds;
Chests stir to life and feet rush to pray;
To the Lord of the worlds and of nights and all days;
That hearts be pure and washed of all sins;

Legs merge and lower among one another;
With a strong admiration that lasts forever;
Heads rhythmically bow and touch the sacred floor;
Pearls of rewards doubling behind the door;

To the Beauty sweeter than solace;
Much prettier than silk, gold and grace;
To the King of Heavens and days and nights;
To the King of miracles and solitudes and lights;

Praises and glory are floated to Him;
Who is more real than any futile sweet dream;
From Whom memories are never to fall apart;
By Whom peace flows among our very hearts;

Winds may blow while their grass remain green;
But all fear still, the watchfulness of the Unseen;
Who knows where our hands have been;
Who witnesses what our words shall mean;

Who watches what tongues want to say;
Who sees how hearts promise and swerve and lie;
Who stays alive all through the night and day;
Who created the earth, the moon, the stars, and the sky;

So fear not the laughter of this world;
Which is too plain and as false as words;
And dwell ever not in its bland rapture;
Which is as bitter and crude as literature;

And I cry again, ever and everlastingly;
Hearing His sweet and thoughtful sanctity;
His Words that are as tight as the rainbow;
His Words that I want to hear still, tomorrow;

And I recall again all those warm phrases;
And of their pretty scarves and natural laces;
But can I only be here, by the window to hear;
Listening with pain, by my own white pool of tears;

While inside flows again those rains of virtues;
That I once liked and ever wished to choose;
The belief to which I longed to vow;
The febrile phrases my heart used to know.