Waiting for May, I draw, not knowing,
will there be heat tomorrow, or not?
Ghosts of paradise, slipping away with warmth,
are unlikely to give an intelligible answer.
But, still knowing Siberia, hope,
on the Lord God, the Heavenly Council,
keeping the hope of goodness in the mind,
with faith I look at the morning light.
will there be heat tomorrow, or not?
Ghosts of paradise, slipping away with warmth,
are unlikely to give an intelligible answer.
But, still knowing Siberia, hope,
on the Lord God, the Heavenly Council,
keeping the hope of goodness in the mind,
with faith I look at the morning light.






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