Sunny sun through the windows shone
And the grass was as green as the springtime gone,
And the broth did boil on the stove.
Pelting rain blocks out the sun,
And the floor is as barren as the earth begun,
And I have not eaten food for days.
The dancing butterflies rest on the primrose,
And the happy of the plant as it new grows,
And the river trickles by in yonder town.
Flies attack my tired life,
And the only thing that grows is the thorn that feeds on strife,
And water has not been seen for days.
And as we live in this cruel time,
All I see is the far off place
That one I called my home,
And lost, am I, from my home.