I rise at the break of dawn, <br />still dreaming, half awake, <br />wondering whether I’m gone; <br />but, the sun on the lake, <br /> <br />the ancient stones, the pine-trees, <br />and the mad hungry birds <br />(in a language without words <br />borne to me by the breeze) <br /> <br />softly utter, ‘No, <br />on and on you must go; <br />this life do what you can; <br />eternity has no end.’<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/break-of-dawn-2/
