I, a priest, am waiting behind the magic rainbow,
in the beautiful Druid-temple, illuminated by the fire,
that does not burn brightly, but shimmers such the magical jack-o’-lantern
its sparks and sparkles are called the earthly sea of wonderful feelings.
I, the real Apollo, am waiting behind the mystical rainbow,
in the cloud of Zeus with beautiful muses, like hummingbirds,
who never cry, but create gentle laughing longing wings,
these wings belong to the honorable nice bird of melancholy.
I, a falconer, am behind my winged rainbow,
next to the dreamy hawk, you release it into many gusts,
so that it does its first flight like golden eagle and buzzard,
in a lazy air soul, the magic bird has a courage of the poet.
I, a collector of antlers, am waiting behind the old rainbow,
in the light, gentle jungle of the angels full of noble deers,
that keep the traces of hope in the heart as in the cup of the souls,
these dreaming hearts are able to perpetuate all dreams of the forest.