Though I am not far from my people, I am lost.
Paradise shrouded by the fog of day,
I’m not so sure the distance is worth the cost.
Given an aged horse, so I would not be tossed.
He carries me unfamiliar miles without delay.
Though I am not far from my people, I am lost.
Neither hide nor fur can repress the frost,
The dogged cold repels decay,
I’m not so sure the distance is worth the cost.
Through streams and canyons I have crossed
Alone with fastidious men on the hunt for prey.
Though I am not far from my people, I am lost.
The wind, like a record, in the background of my thoughts,
I dream of my own end in a valorous way.
But I’m not so sure the distance is worth the cost.
My horse is worn, yet I’m in exhaust.
Ice blue skies give way to grey.
Though I am not far from me people, I am lost,
And I’m not so sure the distance is worth the cost.