Though the old man dies, the new child is born
To a world of love, to a world of death.
On the Tigris, the flowers bloom untorn,
While in his bed, asleep, Bahaar's last breath
Is to curse mankind, while praising the earth.
On the Indus, two brothers waging war
Will remove the beauty and means of birth;
Though they'll stop and pray to the springs new bore
Then they'll fall when the wave has surged them past.
And in the silence of a narrow fjord,
The lonely fisherman reeling his cast,
Sees all the beauty the others ignored.
The Spring's rebirth is unique to the year;
By the next rebirth give reason no fear.