The Source

THE SOURCE

The sleep that flits on baby's eyes
--does anybody know from where it comes?
Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where,

in the fairy village among shadows of the forest
dimly lit with glow-worms,
there hang two shy buds of enchantment. 
From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes.

The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he
sleeps--does anybody know where it was born? 
Yes, there is a rumour that a young pale beam of
a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud,
and there the smile was first born in the

dream of a dew-washed morning
--the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps.

The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs
--does anybody know where it was hidden so long? 
Yes, when the mother was a young girl it lay
pervading her heart in tender and silent

mystery of love--the sweet,
soft freshness that has bloomed on baby's limbs.

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