I recall a time of my days
on the rich fields of the Firmlands,
Intoxicated by the sway of the fengrass trees...
I have never seen a season like this one,
a season so consumed with weakness...
I think that the energy, which is to revive
The Earth in eight moons hence,
has sailed over the horizon
and melted into the Sun.
Ravaged oceans of limitless compass
now seem to radiate a rich blue-green...
Unless my eyes deceive me, I see her returning...
Fortitude is the wind in her sails high,
For all mankind to see...

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