The day the little fledgling starts mentoring the hawk

The night the Earth is sent orbitting around the Moon

If some time soon the lame and crippled stand up and walk

and I see the fierce and tough smell flowers and swoon

When we start blessing the dead to rest in turmoil and not in peace

and life commences with death under a sun that is blue

If Swan Lake is ever performed in a park by wild geese

Then surely I will believe this dream-of-a-life is indeed true!