According to Bruegel
When Icarus fell
He fell in the spring
A farmer was ploughing
There in a field 
Overlooking

The whole pageantry
Of the year was awake now
Tingling near the edge of the sea
Concerned with itself
Sweating in the sun
That melted the wax of his wings

Insignificantly
There off the coast
There was a splash
Quite unnoticed
This was
Icarus drowning