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