I come with a charm, ash tree
Beneath your caverns of living wood
near your heart I walk unarmed.
At Roncesvalles my heart broke utterly;
that morning hangs above my world like a dream,
a Paladin’s armor beaten black with blood,
in Aachen’s braziers no new warmth.
With your roots clutch the universe, but clutch not me.
I come to see you, an old king,
in your burning to reaffirm my fate,
hardening my heart beneath your wings.
Bondmen I free, and princes, castrate.
I have altered my world to learn this thing:
we dream and we deracinate.