Consign me not to immortality
If it be borne from things unsaid
Like Catarin who learned tragically
From the poetry of the dead

I care not for ignonimity
If with it, my Father sent
Fair Vivania, Muse of Poetry,
To gift me with consent

May she allow me words to weave
In threads of gold and silver
Pure and clear to not deceive
And strength to make hearts shiver

Consign me not to immortality
I'd rather have my heart's clarity

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Glacian, in the year 649 AF.