Country Grave Yard

A wayfarer is going along the path
looking at the flames above the cross.
He is coming back from his country-work
The fear is taking hold of his throat, of his throat.
He cannot see how the angel mock
His foolish fear and his naked eyes
A loathsome smell is rising to his nose
The fear is taking hold of his throat, of his throat.
Terror changes into fear of death,
When he sees a grave and a child begin to talk.
I need - you know - just a breath of life
You don't see a ghost
Courage (I) identify you've lost in life.
You're looking for can't find.

Listen hold me do not run away.
Listen hold me do not run away.
Wait death, wait death, it's there.
Wait death wait death.

The beach is lashed by a chiller wind.
The drop of rain swallowed up by grass.
He is at ease in the graveyard,
He met the friend of life: courage, of life: courage
Terror changes into fear of death,
When he sees a grave and a child begin to talk.
I need - you know - just a breath of life
You don't see a ghost
Courage (I) identify you've lost in life.
You're looking for can't find.