In the sky is the source of joy,
For I see the sun a-fire, up on high.
Barely warming the land, morning is at hand.
Though be this day all fine indeed,
above my heart arose all need.
Begone fear! No angst be near!
For slowly touched by nascent love
lays this mortal coil 'neath the sun above.
Then slowly sinks that flaming orb once again!
As darkness creeps over the land
all anticipate tomorrow's dawn soon at hand,
when the source of joy inflames the sky.
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