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 In  evening of a grey day, a bleak day
 I strayed into the dim  of the hallowed trees
 Where the fir-trees whisper  those been, those gone
 Where the sacred earth still hides all those we once 
 
 “O father, hear these words, your son is not  for this world
 Faint-hearted and careworn, into this vile life I was 
 In  woods the fiends sigh, I swear I heard the demons neigh
 On the  I espy the dreadful void under the tides”
 
 Ill-assorted  this life, these cares
 Each  I am waiting for the worst to come my way
 Dark  from my mother’s womb; a frail one
  was affrighted at my birth, bewildered from the start
 
 Better it would be  stay in the shades
  the thicket of the dead, in the groves of death
 Here I would lie to the end of the 
 
 “Hear me  my hapless son
 Warn away all  fears
 Make good use of your brief 
 Life may be grim but death is more 
  yourself you sit and wait
 By yourself you will  time to repent”
 
 “In these  halls
 No moon will beam, no sun will 
 In these  rooms
 No tears are seen,  laughter heard”
 
 At the dawn  a quiet day
  strolled from the woods, returned to the hearth
 And with a restful  I roamed
 The  shores, the darkling wilds
 Greeting all the  that befall
 Taking life as  comes