Anytime I flee you run,
Faster than the sinking sun,
Faster than a spit of fire
You bite the sky as I fly higher;
To the sea I glide—the Alkuon,
Nesting by waters, setting palms upon foreheads
To calm them numb,
But then you come, as a ship,
Stealing winds you race for me
—But I am the faster,
So I flee;
We do this dance,
From Caspian to Galilee,
From flaxen autumn then to the blossom spring,
This waltz of lovers, is a many splendid thing;
I’ll leave marks behind
So you may always find, and I dare you,
Set ready your heels, and chase me.