THOUGH your eyes with tears were blind,	
Pain upon the path you trod:	
Well we knew, the hosts behind,	
Voice and shining of a god.	
 
For your darkness was our day:	        
Signal fires, your pains untold	
Lit us on our wandering way	
To the mystic heart of gold.	
 
Naught we knew of the high land,	
Beauty burning in its spheres;	        
Sorrow we could understand	
And the mystery told in tears.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem