In the crease of the numb Aeons, a fleck on the glum Cosmos,
I stumbled upon a
silly, elfin, true-eyed creature.
Do not go searching for pine tarts in the crumbling forest any more.
Do not flee at nightfall and sleep under the leafy arc.
There I found you once before,
in the gorge of the desiccated cataract,
in the land of grim woods
where lost urchins wait to be snatched in time
Never to return,
but to live, and to weave a tale of a hamlet where
no one is cast away.