In wake of Helios' ascent,

waves sing of delicate advent,

of birth, of growth, of what is true;

all along I am singing too.

 

When he climbs to the soaring crest,

rays sough into Mother Earth's breast

of voyage and of triumph's hue;

all along I am singing too.

 

Riding foward bears East retreat.

Crimson skies hum of day's defeat,

for end, new beauty, and adieu;

all along I am singing too.

 

Before Helios' next ascent,

I will ever be singing too.