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.