Classic Poem

Lo it is dawn, so rise and let us part;
We're barely rooted here, unwelcome guests.
What hope is there for one neglected plant,
In bloom, in color so unlike the rest?
How could the new in heart blend with the chant
Of ancient hearts that beat in ancient breasts?
Lo, there the morning calls, beloved, hear!
Let's trace its steps as it shakes off the night;
We've suffered long enough the evening's claim
That it has ushered forth the morning's light.

We spent this life confined within a vale,
Along whose ribs cascades of worry flow,
Upon its shoulders creatures of despair
We witnessed, perched like vultures, flocks of crows;
We drank but sickness from the winding stream;
We ate the poison of unripened groves;
We clothed ourselves in patience but it blazed
And left us ashes for a new attire;
And so we bedded in our ashen robes,
Which while we slept rekindled into fire.

O land veiled to our sight from ages past,
Which way to you? Which path? How long? How wide?
What wasteland hems you in? What mountain range
Enfolds your realm? Which one of us the guide?
Are you our hope? Or are you a mirage
In hearts where none but fruitless quests reside?
Are you a dream that sways within our souls
Until they wake, chasing that dream to flight?
Or traveling clouds that race the setting sun
Before they drown within the seas of night?

O source of knowledge where our forbears dwelt,
Where Truth they worshipped, Beauty was their creed:
Uncharted source, unknown, unreachable
Whether by crested wave or racing steed,
Neither in East nor West can you be found,
In southern reaches nor in northern field,
Not in the skies we find you, nor the seas,
Nor pathless deserts which beguile our art:
Deep in the soul you burst, like light, like fire,
You are within my chest my pounding heart.