North Wind, blow your aspen leave once more
And tell me if it reaches the shingle shore
Where life is replete with its pristine nature:
Where the sea kale copes with the sea winds
Rising to a ridge of a crest, valorous and bounteous
True blue to the whimsical temper of sea love;
Where the yellow horned poppy blooms in the sea mists
Standing on a cliff, facing seaward, toward the horizons
Skybound, spellbound, fluttering the golden petals ever –
And if you see the brown hare hopping around the shore,
Tell me the castle east of the sun west of the moon is there.
