Barefoot over the earth===Shavings curl in the wood which berry-smells fill. A cottage grows up on Kinnekulle Hill.

In half-an-hour's walk
From the village
My life like a legend
Begins all over.

Not for loafers to envy---
To no haven or cove,
Like a rank-and-file trooper
I go to the blueberry hill.

Only smoke-wreaths will climb
From the gully edge rolled
When its house-warming Rhyme
In the forest will hold.

I dream:
at a distance
From everyday din
To acquire birds'keen vision
Unknown to us men.

Like the Snake-Eater I,
Ears wide open, will learn
The language of frogs
And the grass and the fern.

Come and visit me, neighbours
From villages near.
I'll treat you with poems
Sweet to the ear.