I am home after a long journey. Snug in harbor, wrapped against wind.
Now with harrowing adventures passed, the morning chores beckon. My breath mist in the cool dawn. Water and wood must be got.
How long to remain idle, Lord? A flame was lit in my heart.
Shall I sing working-songs of my travels, Lord? Will the flame thus be passed?
Let not fame dog me. Thank you, Lord, for the morning of work.