Nature the healer

With trembling hands,

Shaken soul,

I am begging

The cool breeze of morning,

To quench the fire of solitude inside me

I am begging

The rising sun of the morning,

To drift the clouds of despair; over me

I am begging

The twinkling stars in the womb of the sky,

To pour a little of their glitter

Into the dark ways of my destiny

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