Blazing, unmoving sun
over the isle of death,
the white stone house of Time.

They say it´s where
eternal treasure dwells,
and if they say it,
it must be true.

On the table is a jug,
next to it a glass.

Whoever drinks from it forgets
their name and
loses their shape,

transforms into a grain of sand on the ground
on the blinding beach of the isle of death.

Translated by Tiina Aleman