Exquisite hour

I love this exquisite hour and morning

Where I go by meadows and fields

From my southern countryside

To contemplate the morning approaching.

Dew still pertaining to herbs

Makes myriads of golden drops

In which are reflected, superb

The steps of the walker reinvigorated.

Everything is still quiet and only singing

Chirping birds are heard.

And then suddenly everything becomes endearing

Walking cradles him and can not wait.

He finally understands who he is here

Lonely and invested walker

From a sacred mission to an ultimate goal

Testify of the beauty he believes.



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