Ah, Summer; the last season of my discontent, br The last days of my forced internment- br May they be cloudless and temperate, br To mirror the desires of my heart, as I figure it br Is sure to be many a moon, where br I fear not the spectre of this gloom's stare. br Surely there are brighter days ahead; br Surely, the abject fear and darkness are dead! br br May the Sun shine again, in my direction; br May it offer the aegis of its protection. br Should there be rains, let them nourish, not drown; br Should there be clouds, let them lift me up, not weigh me down.