A god that throws and throws the dice again,
Round and round, up and down, its tides never ceasing;
A hand displays the cards, but the heart in hiding.
The flimsy Queen and her inconstant King reign.

For the plaything even sorrow doesn’t remain.
Hark the gentle passer in his boat accosting;
Embark on the waters, they will wash everything,
But when the die is cast you will know a new chain.

Go to the sea! Go to the sea! Down and deeper,
And up you will rise with the sea-gulls, mariner,
to melt into the sky or burn into the sun.

Far above or down under you shall meet the breaker
Of hand that plays the dice with its timely partner.
Here’s the time when the puppet wants no longer run.

Samedi 27 novembre