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.