short poem

among the mountains i wandered
i make my shroud, but no one knows
the pale day drowses on the western steep
out of me unworthy and unknown
i bid them all farewell
she might have known it in the earlier spring
there by the window in the old house
for then without
i made a vow once, one only
arched the flood
i've won the race
their beautiful hair
the ships are lying in the bay