Until the good fills the canals
That had been cracked and dry
We cannot as yet look
At our eye with our own eye.
But when the world will be tipsy
With tipsy steps
And our good will conquer
The plains and steppes,
Of our own free will we will choose
The good and divine,
Because when we detach
The tree from the vine,
When instinct and freedom
No longer intertwine,
The new birds breathe freely
Below the timberline.
This secret already
Is coming to light
Providing solace
And a glimmer of might,
Not of a man
Who unseeing gains grace,
But a man to whom God
Speaks face to face.
That had been cracked and dry
We cannot as yet look
At our eye with our own eye.
But when the world will be tipsy
With tipsy steps
And our good will conquer
The plains and steppes,
Of our own free will we will choose
The good and divine,
Because when we detach
The tree from the vine,
When instinct and freedom
No longer intertwine,
The new birds breathe freely
Below the timberline.
This secret already
Is coming to light
Providing solace
And a glimmer of might,
Not of a man
Who unseeing gains grace,
But a man to whom God
Speaks face to face.
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