Dirge

Where leads my path,
Weaved of brass?..

Damp breath of forest wraps me...
In sickness of fight,
And in that web of thoughts
I go down the path.

In the time while gliding through the dusk,
I hear the moan of trees,
Their leaves lay in the musty grass
And're full of autumn glee...
Brooding clouds make me fell reflected in death,
And i fell apart on shades,
And the dark pines are the enigma gates
Into the soul depths.

Rain bleeds with me, sky cries.
Nothing is left behind
Come to me
And heal
My eyes, they're cold and blind.
Oh they're tearful and blind.

The pines watch me
With eyes of cones...

The omen led me to a gloomy vain
In cold october's hands
I do perish now on that leafcarpet
And that suffer never ends.
In the close contact to morning's cold haze
I come over the ground
Like the tasteless rain from the high grey clouds
And eyes of silence meet me...

Rain went in ground, sky's pure...
Nothing is left behind
Crow cried loud
Black ode
For these throes of mind
That depression of mind.

Frigid blowing...
Aether watches...