Young people gather wood, rather rotten wood,
Relaxing as can be, relishing the coal of the fire;
They wait until death has arrived, on their doorstep,
When steps are taken to disturb the real fire of life.
Youth is spending a youth, young men and women,
All of them are splendid in jobs, worthwhile endeavour.
We space our life around the stages we encounter,
The young heart masters a new strategy, feeling good
About the way we wonder and wander, like burning wood.
The heart of red blood felt all right,
But young hearts defend themselves.
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