For forty days and forty nights I roam a vagrant sea with no light to guide a man to shore, no beacon summoning. I see no time: no days, nor months; only moments reckoning in silence for the one who comes to end my suffering. On boards of plank, washed red with ***, that glisten in the morning sun; I lie awake, and await the one who frees me of my mortal bond.
I promised I would soon return, and yet I yearn, remaining true. 'Cause forty days turn forty years and now my blood runs blue.