I write with flowers of ink,
thou love poured out on page,
in a slumbering alder away in endless flight;
swaying with the stars, so white 'gainst the black night sky.
Facing the horizons, on the calm black waters called -ink.
-I write for thee that thou heart be free.
I have seen maelstroms eternal,
mount in my soul but endless;
-An abyss without thee, I dare thee not.
By starlight the rushes lean over thee wide:
-The ink on the page is erased,
-The text is long forgotten.