“When the sun embraced the moon In the shadows, over lights, When the calling of the loon, Cried again, in silent nights, There was written on a rune How a poet stays and writes All the things which often strewn Waves of life, over the heights –
And our story, thus begins With a poet and his muse, As my verses quickly spins Sweeping words, inside a cruse – And the riddles, like some pins, In the waves of life, to choose Fairy dust, in wind and fins...”