His heart he offers them
...and they spurn
Then in silence and seclusion
...silently he weeps
However there is no one coming all along
Who would wipe the tears from
His careworn face away
And so with each brith of a day he gets up
And sets forth the new pilgrimage
His endless heart stays opened still
So that everyone could enter...
...only visitors sometimes come...
He is not clad like a king
His garments bear the sign of distant lands
Though he is the embodiment of thee Lord
So night after night as wave after wave
Lonely yearning and silent weep dissembless
And they are smitting upon the merciless shore of body...
I wish my pilgrimage to reach home already