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When the youth left his Mother's house
Morning was among the mountains
And Spring,
And even as the hills pressed against their breasts with arms of forest
The little blue lake before that house,
So the Mother encircled her son.
The Father came, and then went,
And the lad followed the man with a glance of hate.
His Mother gave her son a bright sword:
“Keep this, it is sharp with your Mother's love:
Use it to slay the Dragon.”
“There are no Dragons in these days,” said the youth.
But the Mother smiled in sorrow:
“There are, there are, my son …
And when the dark hour comes
Slay, though it slays you.”
Morning was among the mountains
And Spring,
And even as the hills pressed against their breasts with arms of forest
The little blue lake before that house,
So the Mother encircled her son.
The Father came, and then went,
And the lad followed the man with a glance of hate.
His Mother gave her son a bright sword:
“Keep this, it is sharp with your Mother's love:
Use it to slay the Dragon.”
“There are no Dragons in these days,” said the youth.
But the Mother smiled in sorrow:
“There are, there are, my son …
And when the dark hour comes
Slay, though it slays you.”
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