Four verses.
Summer’s longing for the harvest
Fills our hearts as wains the springtime.
Springtime’s follies a bitter harvest
Bring us in the scorching summer.
Now the Ram is bounding swiftly,
Now no hunter may come near him.
Shining Eibram, brightest creature
Of the folk of Lower Heaven
Once went bounding from the sunrise
And the cart behind him, burning,
Scorched the earth, and withered flowers,
Melted iron Gates of Winter.
Shining Eibram of the sheep-folds
Of the northern pastures blooming
With the clover and the heather
Many ewe-lambs there desired
And the grass from heat was withered
Until hunters drove him from it.
Shining Eibram, Ram of Morning,
Keeps the oath of Earth and Heaven,
Grants the peoples Under Starlight
Light and warmth, and green things growing
He draws upward by his beauty—
But he keeps his course appointed.
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