Conjuring up those past days of childhood makes me wild
Just to feel and to run again in wide meadow a barefoot child
I would talk to the whitening leaves of lofty trees
And listen on hot summer day to the humming of the wild honey bees
I chase the wind with bare feet and with youth flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to the world to give,
I can tread on the grass or the summer night stars,
There in my childhood, then at last I can live!
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