Our journey passes many hours upon broad and open paths
there moving with a great swiftness,
Yea, greater even than the swiftness of young and hungry whippets,
'till we enter upon winding paths climbing upwards into the forest
where the stony path ceases and crosses the gate of underhill.
On the evening slope of the mountain we arrive.
Behold Karen Who Is Tall has preceded us here
and in the shaded grove there has pitched for us a good tent.
A table and rock hearth will serve for their board
and thereunto the humans unload bountiful provisions.
Evening creeps upon our camp.
My companion and the Good Man Len make from sticks and logs
fire that presses back the cool air of night
and sends the wondrous incense of sausage up unto the clear sky.
It pleases our muzzles, and although we deign not to fill our bellies with kibble,
we neither forbear the begging that attains our portion of sausage.
The sleeping place of the tent is good.
There my companion's feet are close upon one side,
and close upon another, the warming wool of poodle.
My pack all about me makes the night safe
and sweet with the fragrance of our many bodies.
Exegesis and Commentary
My apologies to the followers of Frida for such a long hiatus in the transcription of her book, especially as it came in the middle of the relation of this journey. As you will see later in this chapter, although the journey begins with a well-pleased canine, she encounters a painful trial, and I think the translation of that has proven more difficult than usual. Anyway, for now here is the satisfaction of the camp in the woods, all good with sausages and close sleeping quarters in the tent.
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