Sleeplessly resting in a fragile hint,

so alike a water circle offers shallowness;

sighted shortly and withheld; so moving

Tracing then the water in the forest-creek down to the river.

Waiting here. Observing with a careful watchfulness.

Counting everything musingly and cultivating my freedom.

Honour is never anything other than right; wise and truthful,

unthinkable to therein search after any hidden motives.

Sleeping safely next to the hillside smith at summer-dawn.

Relief comes when Life again will be enough.

Letting fastidious be me reasonable and healthy.

Opportunities, the now’s possibilities avoided me steadily

and persistently bitterness bites memories sown,

cock-sure and clearly; in benefit for worthlessness

But, I have a prevalent advantage in clearest excess;

I am foresighted on the Holy Path Home to Valhalla.