Where are you fair mistress?
Guider through valleys of death,
Shining light to my day.
Why have I lost you?
No,
Why are not ever-present,
As fickle as the winds themselves,
Your tide is destructive,
And with each passing,
I,
A solitary stone,
Weather away into dust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem