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I have picked out a lullaby, to sing to you
in words you won’t understand — and I will not translate
them to English or French or any other tongue
let them move you in their own way
their beauty bring calm and peace
even as my voice shakes as I sing
and if my voice breaks at times, be assured
in grace and in compassion
that this is not the breaking of sorrow
but my wistful plea to the awe of the lyric
and if I fail to find, on occasion, the key
do not call foul or fair
for I am but a poor bard, of talents few
but these I shall give, in humble supplication
as I sing to you this lullaby
this song of evening and of dusk
this berceuse of melody and whispered word
this prayer

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