I am never lonely in the wood because the birds are with me, and I know their language. Tonight, when I’m weary, I hear one gaily-plumed bird say to another, “I know that wandering fool under the tree. He’s trying to find King Solomon’s ring.”
The other bird says, “He’ll have to seek help from the witch-maiden.”
According to the birds, the witch-maiden has no settled dwelling. She’s here today, gone tomorrow. I might as well try to catch the wind. How am I going to do that?