DARK CLOUDS have blotted all lights from above; and we caged

birds cry and ask you: 'My friend, is it the death moment

of creation? Has God withdrawn His blessings from the sky?'

Times were when the sudden breath of April would waft the distant

fragrance of hope into our hearts, and the morning light

would gild the iron bars of our prison with its golden

spell and would bring the gladness of the open world into our cage.

But, see, it is all dark in the hills yonder, and not a thinnest

rift has been made by the scimitar of light cutting through the massive gloom.

Our chains today sit heavy on our feet, and not a flush of glow

is left in the sky with which to build an illusion of joy.

But let not our fear and sorrow pain you, my friend!

Come not to sit at the door of our cage to cry with us.

Your wings are unfettered.

Far away from us you soar beyond all clouds.

And from there send us the message in song:

'The light is shining for ever. The lamp of the sun is not out.'