Carried through many a foreign land and much-unknown people,
I arrive to these mis’rable funeral motions
Only so I may present you with this final death-gift
Vainly addressing your ash which cannot ever respond
Fortune having stolen your flesh from my desperate* fingers.
Piteous brother, now ripped from my life like a thread,
Gifts of our love and our sadness hand we down to your gravestone
As is always done for our* dead when they fall.
Take them from us now, my young-dead brother now fallen;
Hear me when I say, “Hail and good-bye for all time.”