One last summer night of May
I wrote a letter to outer space,
Letter of wonders and questions
Asking why the sun rises.
When it is frequently in a hurry to set?
Why the wind blows the clouds to the south?
And spins and turns to the North,
Swirl and swirl it goes and goes,
Oh Dear outer space,
Why are they always returning to their course?
Why do all brooks and rivers flow to the sea?
And yet it never spills and never full?
And those waters again return
From where it comes...