「Splendor in the Grass」
Not in entire forgetfulness and not in utter nakedness.
But trailing cloud of glory do we come from god who is our home.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the
grass, of glory in the flower, we will grieve not.
Rather find strength in what remains behind.
In the primal sympathy which having been must ever be.
In the soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering.
In the faith that looks through death.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, thanks to its
tenderness, its joy, its fears.
To me, the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do
often lie too deep for tears.
草原の輝きや草花の栄光が
再び還らなくても嘆くのはよそう
その奥に秘められたる力を見い出すべし
かつてのまばゆい輝きが
永遠に奪われてても
例え、二度と還らなくても・・・
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