At the first break of dawn,
When the breeze grants its boon,
Brushing sorrows from your soul,
It bids farewell and leaves so soon.
The birds keep singing, chirping,
Telling me where they have been.
They become my eyes for the world,
The sights they've just seen.
Little by little, they share their stories,
While I listen to them like a devotee.
The wake of humanity slowly begins,
And so does the daily routine.