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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