Sweetest innocence, O gleeful eyes!
Blossom and face the sun;
Tranquil doves embellish the horizon
Enchanting the realm of beauty.
Purest of hearts, richest of souls-
A mask or a shield?
Blessed ignorance it was,
Or maybe the virtuous folly
Of truths unseen, of lands untrodden.
Dreams bow their heads
To kiss the blessed forehead
Of a spirit nomadic,
Drifting across sandy shores.
Storms fog the mystery
Of noisy vacuum;
Voices from the heart,
Pricked by a thorn
Of the rose that coloured it.
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