A Sage, I know, here wrote about the moon,

The cities, the water, friends,

The soul

What strange things I wonder, those souls,

That they will touch each other deeply sometimes

With a few verses, or just a word, or no word

That they never go apart though far and wide,

No matter mountains, rivers, the moon or sorrow

See the wild horses on the prairie, with their long mane

In wind?

Or the swans in a lake remote on a night bright

My soul is longing to join you all, too; so eager

I feel alive

 Life is a song,

 That you can sing or you can

 smother