But you, sun king, sleep now beyond the light. Slowly dies the stream, without a fight, through burning bogs that turn our lives to leather, while clouds dream silver dawns throughout the night. Rest now, sun king, your head beyond the light, while clouds dream silver dawns throughout the night. The sun, having achieved the summer's peak, is invited to take a rest. Lean your shoulders on the heather is said to someone going to sleep in the open air.
Streams running into bogs are superficial, and they tend to disappear in the heat of summer.