The hours are drawn and we afar will go
To cap the wanton willows by and by,
To eat and drink, and all that comes about,
That with a man there bays no evil eye.

That one in turn, with others for themselves,
Can hardly crest the stars as they may glow,
Can barely catch the rays of any beam,
Can scarcely fetch the moondust from the snow.

If left to me, I would not come there more,
When moon is red and shining on earth's green,
Unless at last the other suns must rout,
And fade away like me and not be seen.

Then both of us could touch the brink of fate,
And shout without a care the hour is late.