And ice below, and above - I toil somewhere in between: To punch my way up or drill down through. To rise to the surface and not lose hope. And there to wait for official stamps. The ice above me - snaps and cracks. I am pure and plain, though not from behind a plow. Iíll return to you like the ships in the song, Remembering everything, even old verses. Iíve had less than half a century, some forty plus. Iím alive, protected twenty years by you and the Lord. Iíve something to sing about standing before the Almighty, Iíve something to justify myself before Him.
© Albert Todd. Translation, ?