Of these westernmost lands
My child
Will you long remember
Between soft folds of velvet green
Paler, darker – oh winds’ fancies
The silvery song of streams ?

With every further step you take
Towards shorter summer
Its soflty spoken rhyme will fade
Its call will sound thinner

Yet in the deeper still waters
Of memory’s dark lake
Where mountains’ roots their next life drink
At heaven’s sunken wells

If you allow your eyes to see
If you let your mind drown
The summer isles will rise anew
Waterfalls will abound

Singing of woven shards of sky
Amongst white cotton spells
And fleeting flames of asphodels
No hell could ever bind