A
swan ship glides and leads my soul
to
the blest hill of Zela's white isle.
Her
blue rose sings; it bears no spines
I
hear fire speak her wish for man.
The
glad sun bows as rays kiss earth
a
dark snake bleeds; the pure lamb reigns.
I
veil my face to greet love's gift
and
waltz with light for iron is rust.
