The albatross spreads its wings for that one last flight
Warily, disenchantedly it pleads at the skies
Hey, the azures, do not make me fly again into oblivion
Sighing deep and heavy, he takes leave of the mariner, the keeper
The seas are too mighty, vast for one soul to transcend
His spirits lift him to the heavens, young but he be old in wisdom
Recounting those reflections by a lake seven seas beyond
The swan, elegant, white, in resplendence and pride
Her memory, the thought smiles him into that last surge
The fire, not the skies await him; he is not the phoenix.