What lies before us, we cannot tell. But it must be beautiful.

Among things that are beautiful in life there are not such nights so beautiful.

All nature is as it were sunk in our own dreams,
And gently inquiring the mind too is drawn in on itself,
To pursue the train of its own thoughts,
Which borrow the colors in the night sky.

Sunlit and alluring,
And all that is me,
Sunk into the dark ocean of an oblivion,
The impression the dark arctic sea makes is remarkable.

Stretching as far as the eye can see,
The dark sea often paints black ink against the drifting ice.

The sky, gleaming cloudless and pale blue,
Glowing in the rich poetry of sunrise,
Or sunset color,
Or slumbering lingering through the lingering twilight.

Showering far and wide, melancholy desolation and death,
In these regions the heavens count more than elsewhere,
They give color and character,
They have no pallet to the eye.
Never will i forget when i first entered these regions.

What lies before us, we cannot tell. But it must be beautiful.