In the evening of a grey day, a bleak day I strayed into the dim silence of the hallowed trees Where the fir-trees whisper of those been, those gone Where the sacred earth still hides all those we once loved O father, hear these words, your son is not made for this world Faint-hearted and careworn, into this vile life I was hurled In the woods the fiends sigh, I swear I heard the demons neigh On the seashore I espy the dreadful void under the tides Ill-assorted with this life, these cares Each moment I am waiting for the worst to come my way Dark berry from my mother´s womb; a frail one I was affrighted at my birth, bewildered from the start Better it would be to stay in the shades In the thicket of the dead, in the groves of death Here I would lie to the end of the days Hear me now, my hapless son Warn away all yours fears Make good use of your brief days Life may be grim but death is more austere By yourself you sit and wait By yourself you will have time to repent In these lowly halls No moon will beam, no sun will shine In these narrow rooms No tears are seen, no laughter heard At the dawn of a quiet day I strolled from the woods, returned to the hearth And with a restful mind I roamed The dreary shores, the darkling wilds Greeting all the days that befall Taking life as it comes