Bathing in an enchant’d silver firth of another eternity soon to pass,
I grant’d homage to handsome clouds flush’d of rose-colour’d glass.
Amidst the imperial timberlands and myrtle chaparrals I bath’d and pinéd…
O perish’d moon, gliding adrift the fountains of Atlantis, art thou not mine?
Thy celestial enterprise preserv’d on through a foreign silence beyond the obsidian sea.
Art thou so distant? to ne’er unfetter the manacles of my essence as a nobleman’s key?
To purge in thy mighty rivers, to reveal the sincerest of delights in thy luminosity aglow,
Engendereth memoirs of a radial pipedream in royal snow.
O cerulean marble, sound asleep in thy Delphian shrine,
I beseech thee to attend me and lay bare thy grace of vitric rime.
The ensorcell’d forest of time without end camouflageth the ring-tail’d roarers.
The kitsune and nixes retreat unto the gardens of Arcadia leaving my heart that much sorer.
I yearn’d through another eternity to frolic in the lupine kindred’s nighttide soiree…
Herein our theatre halls of archaic euphonies, Sköll and Hati orchestrate our regal bays.
My belov’d Fenris, art thou not as all-pervading and e’erlasting as the Kolmården Forest?
As majestic and grandiose as the nightingale’s hymn chorus’d?
The grand tears, those snaking and bracing streams,
Branch into twain gurgling serpents neath the bridge of a sapphire moonbeam.
Mournful blood sister Rusalka, thy despairing eyes hemm’d the winter’s insipid pale.
The nostalgic anguish thou hast brook’d voyages alongside the sombre gales.