Naturally, she answers questions that have never been asked

Always, asks questions to which there are no answers

This mimic echoing of human curiosity is still.

Soon there will be a blanket of snow

Enough to cover all the graves in Ireland.

The landscape is never still, always

A casting off or a putting on

Rivers seek to break their banks

Insects dance, and birds sing

Frost, spring zephyrs, summer     

Everything comes to its end,

Fruitful autumn harvests 

Winter returns.

The swift moon repairs the slow heaven 

We are dust and shadow.

Who knows tomorrow

The gods themselves are never satiated

It is not eloquence which delivers us but grace

Restores life, chases chaste Diana out of the darkness,     

Into the clear, cold sunlight of day.