Darkness deepens.

The day is being woven

Between the black and white threads.

From time immemorial,

The restless wind emerges and blows

Out of the ancestral graves.

By the tongues of the leaves

Death murmurs:        

‘Life drops and splits like a tear,

Down the moorland where the devil vultures

Flutter with blade-like wings.

Everyone is betrayed in their sleep

By the dream that makes us smile

Yet leads into the blackhole of death.

The world overflows with funeral songs,

Each soul sings a dirge in the tomb.

After the violent fight with the shadows,

We yield with a scream

Echoing from clouds and hills.

It is our dreams that burn on every pyre,

Hope itself is buried in this battlefield,

The graveyard of the lost.