Im lying on the shore
of this blue-golden day.
My skin is soaked with light
and my soul warms
with Your sweet presence.
We laugh at Your hair teasing me,
Gossamer threads in hazel shadow.
I'm longing for the night
in the deep shade of apple orchards,
when we will lie all carelessly under a waning moon.
High in the sky the hunters stars are striding round the pole.
They've told us once,
once only in a long years course
his spear draws blood from the wild boar
which reaps the earth with fiery fierceness
and blood drips from the sky to dye the leaves all red.
I know the mist will rise from the near river,
enfold us in a blessed whiteness,
to cool my skin still burning from your touch.
So Im floating on the shore of this blue-golden day,
and each wave of the ebbing tide will carry me a little further to the gates
which will swing open once again on winters eve.