We are the wandering spirits
that knows no rest,
like leaves driven on the wind
wherever it wants;
in the midst of people -
that haven't loved nor hated, -
but forsaken us -
with our dreams alone.

For no one that perceived
the dreams in our eyes,
will rest or be again
what they were before?

We wander where flowers, clouds 
and stars are 
because where does the song resound 
that we hear from afar 
We bind tomorrow, and the next day 
to the years, 
and flow through time 
as blood through the veins, 
through the grey and old world move we 
that are young and drunk with eternity

For who that perceived
the dream in our eyes
will rest or be again
what they were before?

NP Van Wyk Louw