Through this scarred and sodden grove I sauntered,
Rhythmic footfalls silently treading through the destruction,
Never before had I seen a wood so tortured and haunted,
The saturated leaves still gracefully drifting in seduction.

Ich falle.

The moon emerged at last, clouds' curtain drawn,
A howl sounded out in the darkness, chilling and pure,
The shrill wail kept the woodland creatures withdrawn,
This cold loneliness again my own to savor.

Ich falle.

In a moment of passion, I traveled to the highest hill,
Emerging high above the poplars and oaks,
Releasing every spirit within me, I remained at a standstill,
Hands raised to the moon, I howled as I cast off my yoke.

Ich falle.