When angels whisper in your dreams
Relinquish doubt, thy dawn is here!
E’er turning wheel, ah, heaven beams
What veiled before must reappear.

The trodden road forbids the roots
from further shooting in its mire.
These withered leaves, the hallowed hoots,
Are swiftly drenched, O holy fire!

Each darkened soul a sacred vow:
The road ahead — the road above!
Unearthing light, the tired plow
Will soon become a golden dove.

We hid so well they lost our sight,
Prepared to spread these wings again!
If one at heart, ascend by right
To blaze awake the morning’s reign.