Blessed are those who mourn

At this withered age I've already learned

to read the signs of my weary heart,

of my monotonous, depressed and hurt

soul that weeps silently and longs to part

from this rotting world that has nothing to give

and verily has never had apart from

taunting and unwilligness to live

inside a cage crying for freedom.

And I went to the forest to wander among the trees,

silently watching their endless shapes

but the daylight was waning with a chilling breeze

and the dusk offered no cure for my pains

and thus I settled to return home

and set my slow drift beneath the trees

where the autumn wind shivered my old bones

and blew leaves of fall off from the canopies

Inside my chamber I enkindled the blazes

of candles that lighten'd my small library

and once again perused the wisdom of ages

from writings enscribed in the book of the prophesies

but alas! they only did worsen my nostalgia

by announcing the waiting for return of white Lord

and I felt the teardrops running down my pale cheeks, and yea,

I could stand no more, but run out through door

into darkness of night

with heart sore

Bewilderment and agony raged in my heart as I

ran through the gates of my yard with only thought

to reach to that place that had during the summer been my

only place of rest by the seashore where I had sought

relief from this yearning and rest from my languor so unsettling

but now a storm had arisen and sky was cloudburst

and thunderbolts struck through the night that was flaring

with the might of the storm but forthwith darkening worse

And I climbed to the top of a cliff by the sea's bank

and fell to my knees, praying that my life had been curtal

and desperately crying towards black skies I threw my hands

and bitterly cursed all that is mortal

Voi kuinka minun sieluni janoaa Sinua, elävä Jumala