I walked in winter’s cold
And looked up to the sky
And in the bitter chill
A voice was rising high:

“Cease, mortal, in your steps
And turn ye from the cold
Go warm yourself beside
The fire with those you love!”

And such was how my wife called me inside

With ev’ry passing year
We find more hairs of grey
And shorter grows each day
Or so I often hear

But oft comes wisdom, too
If we can seek it out
And learn to turn about
From that which is untrue

Come, let us sail away
Go far, to distant shores
We’ll raise sail with the day
With sun or if it pours

And somewhere may we find
A quiet place to be
With peace of heart and mind
Just us there, you and me

I look about and find

Every happiness

And yet my soul cries out:

This place is not the one