by Wilhelm Hojer
It's true that life writes poetry -
isn't the dream also true?
We know that heavens mercy
seeks us all, not just a few.
Even if we set sail on a barren sea,
it's true that life writes poetry.
More real than our hands are two,
are often dreamlands in a golden hue.
More than all we can know and once knew,
more than even my home and country,
it's true that life writes poetry -
when she sings, the world is anew.
Maybe on dry land with our crew,
after winds which summoned the sea,
we'll nods our heads in the morning dew -
it's true that life writes poetry.
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