The days pass sunless ever on,
No beams to blind me underground.
Yet all the star-souls in the sky
Will shine forever in my land.
We pick them lovingly, every gem,
Then polish all with care,
And place one on each treasure made.
They twinkle everywhere.
No seasons mar our handiwork,
No weather comes within,
No storms to frighten little gnomes
Of flashing knives and din.
Familiar streets are all I see,
No crowds nor traffic jams.
There is no point to hurrying
When time is in your hands.
Whatever happens on the top,
The famine and the war,
It need not bother us down here
If humans cannot share.