Dirge

Where leads my path,

Weaved of brass?..

Damp breath of forest wraps me...

In sickness of fight,

And in that web of thoughts

I go down the path.

In the time while gliding through the dusk,

I hear the moan of trees,

Their leaves lay in the musty grass

And're full of autumn glee...

Brooding clouds make me fell reflected in death,

And i fell apart on shades,

And the dark pines are the enigma gates

Into the soul depths.

Rain bleeds with me, sky cries.

Nothing is left behind

Come to me

And heal

My eyes, they're cold and blind.

Oh they're tearful and blind.

The pines watch me

With eyes of cones...

The omen led me to a gloomy vain

In cold october's hands

I do perish now on that leafcarpet

And that suffer never ends.

In the close contact to morning's cold haze

I come over the ground

Like the tasteless rain from the high grey clouds

And eyes of silence meet me...

Rain went in ground, sky's pure...

Nothing is left behind

Crow cried loud

Black ode

For these throes of mind

That depression of mind.

Frigid blowing...

Aether watches...