The garden flickers from the falling rain,
As I watch silently through a window paine.
Everything in it by Mother carefully arranged,
By tears of the sky today is changed.
A sparrow sits upon a leaftop,
As the cat stalks closer it hops,
And flies away. Just like my luck did
When my wild heart I unhid.
Like rose-bushes, we ourselves must be pruned,
Before we are allowed to blossom and come to bloom.
Sometimes the cutting goes rather too far,
Then it ends in bloody pricks, in stunted men and civil war.
All envy a spirit that is free,
Lesser folk fall down, worshipping thee.
Heaven is Mighty, the Sun is pure;
A savage phase in your offspring, indulgently ignore.