From blinding dreams of dark I see

The parts of three, plus me, I’m of

And swings of children in a tree

A hawk soars gently up above

 

I watch the children run and play

The hawk soars higher toward the west

Nighttime welcomes retired day

The children now lie down to rest

 

The hawk continues on his flight

With quiet all that’s left below

And on his own glides in the night

Through winds of dreams blown long ago