I look with fear toward the future,

With yearning back toward the past,

And as a criminal before execution

I search in vain for a kindred soul;

Will there be a messenger of my salvation,

Come to show me my life’s purpose,

The goal of my prayers and passions?

To tell me what God has in store for me,

And why he has so bitterly crossed

The hopes of my youth?

I gave the earth her earthly dues

Of love, hopes, good, and evil;

I am ready to start life anew,

Silent I wait: the time has come.

I leave no kindred soul behind me,

And embraced by cold and darkness

Is my tired spirit.

Like an early fruit, devoid of life-giving waters,

It has been engulfed in fate’s storms

Under the harsh sun of the day-to-day.