What's that lonesome speck flying through the hail?
Why it is me my darling nightingale;
Fighting through raging gusting freezing rain,
While angry wind buffets my feather mane;
My steady pace no faster than a snail,
I plow my way through the enraged gale;
Clouds before me an infinite grey plane,
No line of horizon on which to gain;
The sky, an endless cold stony grey jail,
But love these beating wings will never fail.

Now today I am a sprinting sparrow,
Flying straight and fast, an old wood arrow;
The dark angry clouds have drifted away,
The blue sky is just one blossoming sun ray;
'neath my wings lies the insect world below,
Centipede bridges 'cross the water flow,
Stadium beetles asleep where they lay,
The roads, trails of happy ant cars at play;
Clouds above, blankets of pretty, white snow,
Forever a magnet to you I go.

So I fly for you forever onward,
Fighting both blizzard and balding buzzard,
Heading toward the huge western mountain,
I'll be with you 'fore the night is done;
Even when my lonely path is blurred,
My little beloved singing songbird,
I'll fly on to you through the setting sun,
A streaking shadow on the horizon.