In one of the smaller corners of the very wide world,
There once lived a girl, as old as the tattered rags she wears,
And not a thing in the very wide world was hers,
Yet she had a treasure, so well hidden,
That the very wide world saw it all the time,
But always was the world in such a hurry,
That it never saw `twas there�
She felt the treasure in her veins,
When she would see the flowers dancing in the breeze,
And when the rays would peep from behind the trees,
When the stars blinked and winked,
And when sheets of rain unfolded with the wind.
Her little treasure was always there,
No one would hide it anywhere,
Though the wide world saw it everywhere,
They never realized it was there, and theirs!
`twas always there,
The song of the birds at the break of dawn,
From behind the clouds, the rays of the glorious sun,
The smell of earth when drenched in a drizzle,
Beneath the petals, the dew that twinkles�
It's felt by those who have known what it is to feel,
Who haven't yet become stone in a world of stones,
So oft do they betray it with their dreamy eyes,
Or with the lips that curl in that definite, beautiful smile�
Like this girl who, without anything is the richest among mortals,
And woe to those who measure their richness with trifles,
By all means, they are the poorest.
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