[Illustration of curly lines]

[page 22] (Hoping to leave you with a game or new Card or other useless item...but here is a translation of French poem which appeared in _Tolkien Journal_ III:1, by Gilea Gerris). Bird of a rare song, song of a single throat, distended, tender it is made blue by the unconsciousness of the days. Fill a whole forest and drink of the clouds which envelope it of your down. Bird of a single voyage that is never finished come let us form a written dream, A dream where sometimes the cage opens itself. To arrive before the water And not to be able to lose there hours in swimming. To find the ring.