Across Oceania and over the waves, the wind saves your song,
Long passage to pass to me, to teach as I reach to touch
What is untouchable, and search in my heart for such glory
That I hear in your melody; yet can I bear the terrible space
Between us? But your words lace up the distance, kiss the air;
From across Oceania, wrapped tight round Gaia, bound by night,
You snare me with your love, take the better share of my heart;
No, not in part but the whole of my soul; thru the willow trees
And aspen, over hillocks, atop the knoll, and I strain my song
Back to you with no lack of passion, under ashen grey skies.
If you say ‘goodbye’ would I be well nigh death, last breath?
For what more do I have in life so rife with pain, but only
To gain your best, and your breast against my heaving chest?
Sing, then, till the Fates bring us together again, cracking
What sin did part our way in wicked fray of ill-war fought.
Across Oceania and over the waves, the wind saves your song. . .