The poet, David Andrew, is writing as he considers the future his daughter will make for herself.
The song can also be performed without the flute and cello.
“You have your own dreaming,
I cannot follow where another mind sums up the quiet arithmetic of the day.
Growing there, where none can reach you,
making of the going days the stuff of yourself.
I can only watch, remembering in you
the art of empty tomorrows, written all over with impulse.
Nor can I tell how many times you will fall;
only be there to help you survive your desires.
Oh I will spend with you ev’ry wish as you go the long way through sorrow
for you can only find for yourself
how the magic arithmetic suddenly adds up.
Now time will come for you soon enough ;
the day wake in your eyes.
So sleep as long as you can,
gathering there the necessary and private ways
of enduring. ”
A “modernised” version for soprano, bass guitar, electric guitar and keyboard is also available on this site.