In the field at play, all day, last Summer,
far and away I heard
the sweet-sweet tweet-tweet of a new-comer,
a strange new-comer.
The dearest, clearest call of a bird,
it lived down there,
in the deep green hollows,
that home where the fairies say:
The word of a bird is a thing to follow.
So I was away,
I was away
a night and a day.
Black and chill is the moon on the world;
you shall grow up, but never grow old.
Dark and chill is the sun on the world,
I will always, always be told.
Now listen:
Sometimes I wouldn't speak, uou see,
or answer when they spoke to me,
because in the long-long, still-still
twilight of every Spring
you can sense the whole world whispering,
humming and hammering at your ear
everything there is to hear.
So I went away,
I was away
a night and a day.
Axte Incal,
axtuce mun.

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