(A) Poem:

 
Green means this land;

it leads me to fiords,

where an icy blue strand

refreshes his melody, below.


Like green, becoming blue,

the forest is a mountain, cool;

in the darkness I walk through,

to fonts of frosty fragrance.


Under my lonely feet

the birches accompany me,

whose floor is a mystery, replete -

a garden of gossamer lime.


The symphonies forever sing,

like its Northern birds;

a memory will sweetly ring,

for his music is the land.