Walking in the mortal plain, something akin to a dream,
Smelling the fresh flowers, watching the fish jump from the stream;
The wind blows, such as the Wuther,
And the Doldrums urge me to find my long-parted mother.
As I move, into the Ersatz, and a glimmer of the corporeal,
The Zephyr shares the primordial;
Can the light and day find conjunction and continue the Earthly candlemas?
And in Heaven, do the Gales protect the sanctity of the materfamilias?
The Aeolian signifies, and I cannot deny,
That I do not understand my significance, upon mortal land or godly sky,
Given passage, only to face Eurus, The East Wind;
Mother and son will never reunite again.