Pass on lonely wanderer, to the land
Beyond horizon's edge, unknown to you
The familiar hearth, ever warm and fond,
Now a binding leash and a stagnant pool.
From dawns, to dusks, again to days anew,
Ever turning, never ceasing, from days to weeks to years,
Time stops short for ne'er a one, nor few,
But always turns to make the new appear:
Bind not to old, kept nearer at hand -
Even oaks must fell, ne'er time withstand;
Accept neither place, mundane nor undue,
Like rivers change, one's fate and lot may too;
Life is chance, seldom known, consumed by fear,
Embrace chance, fickle still, bountiful in cheer.