The carriage pursued its headlong course into the countryside.
The road went on into the great outdoors
green lands on either side stretched out both far and wide.

Hey, it's a pretty day
let us park for a short while.
So, in a pretty grove,
they made camp after hard miles.

Chaffinches and bees held sweet discourse,
light played in greens of leaves.
Bogd imbibed delight through every pore
forgotten qualities stirred sensuous memories.

Shine from the heavens, shine - pretty sun, on your incline!
Rise to the heavens, rise - mountain range on the skyline!

In the grove there was a well its brink made up a grassy bed.
Parkhurst said: I'll just have forty winks.
Thoughts of a brand new bred brewed in Bogd's busy head.

I'm weary of the life that I've led and defended!
Here, I feel more alive, oddly free, open ended!

A lulling breath of wind blew in the trees
and soon they both relapsed into a snoring nap.
When they woke up night had settled in.
Stars flickered in the sky.
The well looked like a pool of ghastly ink, with drowning fireflies.
Startled, Bogd rubbed his eyes..."