Here, on the now gentle curves of earth and rock.
Giving of itself up to my gaze, along a thin line, between past tumult and timeless heaven.
Tumuli weaved upon moraines.
Old ones, known, in this still place.
Dignified, respected tongue.
Order, out of warring chaos, cleansing rains, where once blood soaked soils.
And ask, if I may, what are the names, of my old new friends?
My untethered tongue, tentatively tastes those, that took the calling;
giving in abundance, thanks.
Come I a little closer.
Plant I between Dat Water ond De Heven.
And there find I, three; De Beach, Dat Fehn ond De Born.
I begin to sense that which she, Dat Asf, gave
and took within, De Blut.
And grew from that De Buuk,
De Garrn, sheltered by De Boom,
roots planted within De Barg .
Taking ourselves further forward, in the looking back.
There was before, herein and hereafter.
Across dat sea . . . Se mere.
Séo cwén, se secg ond Andlang Séo hætu Morgentíd, swíþost Séo sunne!