You would think you know more than us,
With education as it be.
But as I walk this wearied street,
Lit by lights of stars above
I wonder and wander upon this doubt,
This line inside my mind.
What is it you know more than me?
Why fool the truth you hide,
As hind rush a fleeting sound
I ponder--why so fleeting?--
And not the hind that hear the sound.