My springs and summers are no longer here— I walk through autumn's ordinary way. The nightingales in my soul disappear, In labor I am occupied each day.
Sometimes a sinful vanity would seek To shroud my soul in its embrace once more!.. That godless void, so hollow and so bleak, Has countless false imaginings in store.
But in that moment, prayer I employ To cast this darkness far from where I dwell. My heart is pierced—not without pain and ploy... In God's protection I seek refuge well.
And so my prayer ascends into the sky— The darkness vanishes from my soul's core. The spirit needs its holy comfort nigh, A prayer that God has heard forevermore.
