Above the sea he walks a trail
Birds his guide, he walks
In the steps of pilgrims
From a time, wordless time,
Who, towards the island, stretched out a hand,
Who in the sea sought comfort
And in him he carries the song
In his hand he carries the apple-branch
Apple-branch - first snake, shell, now woman
And the island is a whale
Mirrored in thought and gaze
As ever further on the bird-loud trail
The pilgrim shoulders a song
A song, a thousand words.