Upon an unflowing water
Which wave is a sickle cellar,
I shall surely be thrown,
Yet I will flow,
Which wave is a sickle cellar,
I shall surely be thrown,
Yet I will flow,
I will be no dry wood, drowning each day into the deep
But like a green leaf tossed upon the stream,
and yet floats atop,
with its body summoning living movement,
I shall remain, green and never to drown.
I know it shall be so,
So, throw me now, I know surely, I will be thrown:
It's life's virtue, always retold,
But I shall not drown here,
Though I will be cold,
But the fire that burns in me will withhold all;
Yes, all it will withhold.
So, throw me now, I know surely, I will be thrown:
It's life's virtue, always retold,
But I shall not drown here,
Though I will be cold,
But the fire that burns in me will withhold all;
Yes, all it will withhold.
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