Then the invalid said: "How shall I sing?" Let your heart sing We said
Then spoke the poor dead thistle, "But I, how shall I dance?" Let your heart fly to the wind We said.
Then God spoke from above "How shall I descend from the blue? "Come dance for us here in the light We said.
All the valley is dancing Together under the sun, And the heart of him who joins us not Is turned to dust, to dust.