Death ended all, the spirit has flown.
And that sad refrain,
Again and again,
Tells of a father’s great heart pain,
Always yearning for the boy that is gone.
How many hopes? The breezes sigh,
Softly whispering while passing by:
Fondest hopes of a mother’s breast,
Hopes that pleased the father best,
Reaching from earth to the sun-lit sky.