What’s Become of the Baby

Waves of violet go crashing and laughing The rainbow winged singing birds fly 'round the sun Sun bells rain down in a liquid profusion Mermaids on porpoises draw up the dawn What's become of the baby this cold December morning? Songbirds frozen in their flight Drifting to the earth, remnants of forgotten dreaming Dawning answer comes there none. Go to sleep you child, dream of never-ending always Panes of crystal ice sparkle like waterfalls Lighting the polished ice caverns of the dawn, But where in the looking-glass fields of illusion Wandered the child who was perfect as the dawn? What's become of the baby this cold December morning? What's become of the baby this cold December morning? Racing in rhythm of the sun All the world revolves captured in the eye of woman Allah, where are you now? All eyes are blinded by the sparkling waters Scheherazade gathering stories to tell But where is the child who played with the sunshines? And chased the cloud shape to the regions of mind? Standing stream cries the south wind Lost in the regions of Shadow-like chains of illusion, delusions of living and dead.