Ring!

Ring!

My soul gives forth a pure sound.

And I imagined the poor thing

Already torn apart

By the furious outrages of frantic times.

Sing!

My soul the confessional song

Of exuberance reclaimed;

Lift the pall from your heart.

Hail to thee, chiming note within.

Ring!

Ring out your life,

Fresh, upwelling image.

Blossoming has taken place

Upon the withered field.