Traveller O, why your feet have halted there?
Your terminus is still nowhere near.
Hear the brook that goes on singing in the woods,
See the clouds that go on sailing in the air.
All who came to see you off were not your friends,
Some had for you neath their sleeves daggers bare.
Thank them all alike and wish a happy life,
God Almighty high above takes your care.
Make some music with your footfalls on the road,
Milestones that lie ahead would like to hear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.