It is not the Spring
that ignites our faith.
The same flowers
do not bloom again.
You alone
have promised to return
the same.
My hope is hinged to you
as to a door,
the house beyond,
now empty as a tomb.
It is not the Spring
that ignites our faith.
The same flowers
do not bloom again.
You alone
have promised to return
the same.
My hope is hinged to you
as to a door,
the house beyond,
now empty as a tomb.