1. Is it not great that I see each newcomer
To your meadows one day leaving with handfuls

2. And I return dejected of hope, turned away
With only a greeting from the water of those streams

3. So I despair of what I had hoped from you all
And no hopeful finds what he hoped for

4. Like a fist one day on transient clouds
Grasping at them with outstretched fingers