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.