I have daydreams of a Cimbrian wood,
Walls of vapor that are mountains beneath the mountains,
Boughs that slumber under leafy wings, tangles,
Of antlers, that link and go round, blooming the moon,
A fragrant misty night, swooning with the elms;

I dream tucked in the shoulder of a rock,
Straddling the green dales and this transient room,
Makeshift and gilded with the lush rose
Lingering in the orb of my eye, like a fire, I believe,
I remember the world before us.