O my son, it seems years since you leave me
To take up the staff and set out to your journey
O my son, when the road has you weary,
May all of its sins be as stones leading to me.
Through all the wrongs you've done,
you'll always be my son
through all the wrongs you've done,
the only records I've kept are
the days you've been away from home
I light my lamps, unlocked my doors,
keep watch for you at night.
I've set aside my robe and ring
until my son arrives
What mystery that I, as young, had spent my fathers lot
To be received by arms wide flung and greeted as a son.