I can look the sun in the face But the friends that I have lost I dare not look at any. Yet I have held Them all in my arms, shared with them The same bath and bed, often. Devouring the same dish ,drunk

If we tell, gently, gently All that we shall one day have to tell, Who then will hear our voices without laughter, Sad complaining voices of beggars Who indedd will heat them without laughter? If we cry

On this dirty patch A tree once stood Shedding incence on the infant corn: Its boughs stretched across a heaven Brightened by the last fires of a tribe. They sent surveyours and builders Who cut that tree

I saw a dove, The sky was blue, The leaves were coming, The spring dove sang Of Earth's rebirth. The glorious Sun was warm The world was blue The trees rejoiced The dove rejoiced with all the world, The