LA BIBLIOTHÈQUE DE LA VIE (Life's bibliotheca)

Soul, soul, soul, art thou so weary and worn,

Thine heart have been darkened, dark like a cloud;

Thine life is full of lament and of mourn,

Eyes filled with tears, screaming sadness aloud.

Read thou the first chapter when thou art born,

Art thou so lovely, joyful, and so proud;

'Pen the first book when thou hast been adorn,

A joyful life you gratefully avowed.

Liv'st not the phase of being a forlorn,

Live each books' chapters which crieth so loud;

Keep thriving for life o' rose full of thorns,

'Mbrace all the books, in us, God hath bestowed;

Adore the pages of moments of life,

Dear it even unto the afterlife.

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Monsieur Shakespeare Wyffindor