The tide is there
Always calling, reminding,
But the water in my bath is too hot,
Should I get up, not being able to see at all?
This is what you get for being in the wrong,
Water with fire is only smoke vanishing
It is black when it comes to this power,
Deep with waves too high, splitting,
To think of feeling the stream, combining,
Yet not to follow the misleading touch, the path
How I miss the tide.
The water in my overfilled bath was too hot again,
Too heavy its weight, never enjoyed the load,
Had to get out, but no good was to come
Poured over the tide
I belong to the wind.