Smrtan tr sjlen, en tystnadens tr faller,
mot sorgedrnkt jord, den svartaste mull.
Den tunga svrta som blindar min
syn,
darrandes p kn, vrlden faller skata ned.
Mina hnder fylls, med livets vatten,
detta varma flde, jag gr stilla
hn.
Slpper mitt svaga grepp, frlst frn vven.
frn de bojor, som fjttrat mig.
Vader fram i mrkret i minnenas flod,
ett
ndlst ropande efter ddens strand.
Svagt skymtar hon, vars son jag r.
djupet och mrkret, farsontes bittra moder.
Faller p
kn infr, hennes sjukliga prakt.
hennes kalla barm, vlkomnar mig ter...
[Translate to English:]
Pain consumes the soul, a
tear of silence falls, in soil drenched with sorrow, blackest earth.
Heavy blackness blinds my sight, on trembling knees, the world
slowly falls.
My hands fill with the water of life, a warm flow, I gently perish.
I release my feeble grip, delivered from
the web.
From the chains that have fettered me.
I wade through the dark in the river of memories, an endless call for the shores
of death.
I dimly discern her, she whose son I am.
The abyss and the dark, the bitter mother of pestilence.
I fall down
on my knees before her sickly splendour. Her cold bosom greets my return...
