In a bud,
there is a flower;
In the seed,
an apple tree;
In cocoons a hidden promise,
butterflies will soon be free;
In the cold and snow of winter,
there’s a spring that waits to be;
Unrevealed until its season,
something we alone can see.
There’s a song in every silence,
seeking word and melody;
There’s a dawn in every darkness,
bringing hope to you and me;
From the past will come the future,
what it holds a mystery;
Unrevealed until its season,
something we alone can see.
In our end,
is our beginning;
In our time,
infinity;
In our doubt,
there is believing;
In our life,
eternity;
Unrevealed until its season,
something we alone can see.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem