I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
[ . . . ]
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
[ . . . ]
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
> Solvitur ambulando