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DOES IT EVER MATTER?
The moon shines on the mighty ocean,
Down to the vast lands of the city;
I opened the windows of my little cottage,
And its rays came beaming in my eyes.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the moon?
The rain pours from the open heavens,
With a force none had ever seen;
Right on my roof I heard its fierceness,
As though its rage was sent to me.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the rain?
The wind blows in every direction,
Giving warmth wherever it goes;
There in the lull of my frail dwelling,
I could feel its pure blessedness.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the wind?
The flight of death as legends tell,
Has no excluded destination;
Tho' far from its kiss but still I know,
That its companionship is certain.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the grave?
© OLUMiNOUS
Down to the vast lands of the city;
I opened the windows of my little cottage,
And its rays came beaming in my eyes.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the moon?
The rain pours from the open heavens,
With a force none had ever seen;
Right on my roof I heard its fierceness,
As though its rage was sent to me.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the rain?
The wind blows in every direction,
Giving warmth wherever it goes;
There in the lull of my frail dwelling,
I could feel its pure blessedness.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the wind?
The flight of death as legends tell,
Has no excluded destination;
Tho' far from its kiss but still I know,
That its companionship is certain.
So whether I be poor or I be rich,
Does it ever matter to the grave?
© OLUMiNOUS
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