Rise

In the wake of dawn

When the sun throws

Its balmy light upon the soil

Wet with the morning dew

And the leaf bows down

With the weight of a drop

When the moon no longer

Smiles in the bluest lake

And the first bird

Takes its flight

In the still golden sky

With vestiges of an orange tinge

When in the vast ocean

With water that knows no bounds

In the sea of tranquility

The lonely sailor

Sings of homecoming

In his deep baritone

Then is the time

The time to rise

And touch the skies. . .