Limply lying, I leap upward
when breathed upon. Bound to my master,
leaving him not till life’s ending,
I wait on him, in winter gifting
an unwoven scarf—skilfully tangled!
A faithful friend, I am found always
on top and on bottom, breaking in waves
upon docked sailors. Who dares uproot me
suffers swiftly; my sole worry
is the terror of trees, tempted by heat-urge
to embrace my body, to blaze amber.
But that happens hardly. I am heard often
to remind minstrels of matters versed;
ere they finish fits, feast-halls echo
with my silver voice. Say, honestly,
what I am called.
