Jann Matthew Papin
The Song Of The Traveler
Like to a leaf that is fallen and withered
Tossed by the tempest from pole unto pole;
Thus roams the pilgrim abroad without purpose,
Roams without love, without country or soul.
Following anxiously treacherous fortune,
Fortune which, as he grasps at, it flees;
Vain though he hopes that his yearning is seeking,
Yet does the pilgrim embark on the seas.