When morning calls.
I have chosen a choir of the thrushes to sing
When twilight falls.
I have chosen a shrine where my spirit may pray,
Blessing its birth.
I have chosen a breast where my head I can lay,
Sweet Mother Earth!
When morning calls.
I have chosen a choir of the thrushes to sing
When twilight falls.
I have chosen a shrine where my spirit may pray,
Blessing its birth.
I have chosen a breast where my head I can lay,
Sweet Mother Earth!