Among Patients

Among patients, rude and peaceful, Are born; Singing a rare song. Off in your alive moment as spring, All things are singing and growing! It makes no difference As you are: stone over storm I go. Because these things I accept on land of peace. To think about all is one response what given you! But different virtu, and specific fly all people's hearts gone... That should given Song! That should given Love! If ever any beauty seems more beauty I did see to come dreams. Come! come! come! yourself to me! Among patients, rude and peaceful, are born; and always I'll love them!