You will not see the spring arrive next year,
watch the bud-burst or the last melting snow;
impetuous as always, you have dared to run
along the path where all of us must go.
You will not see the spring arrive next year,
but you will be here in the wind and rain,
part of the mother who embraces all,
the joy and beauty, the laughter and dark pain.
Press the play button to hear the poem
Thanks to Daryl Gravitt for his beautiful midi "Celtic Son"
