At last the traveler,

Aware that darkness is coming on,

Though weakened and shaken from the steep climb

Has achieved the pass, the high divide.


Below and before him the day is fading

Just the glow of a village

Flickering in the dancing air


He thinks he can maybe see the light

That shines from her home

He imagines her reading, looking out the window

Or walking outside to view the evening star

Her pale hair floating in the restless breeze

He wants to be there with her

He wonders if he can find the path