The dead who crave not life, I know not why they lie there
 floating. They lie devoid of thought, bereft of life and drown in
 sorrow.

 Sometimes they scream as life is deprived of them. Life is no
 dream and death holds no final end. We all must die.

 Hacking away with the sword at the earth, at the mounds of soil,
 I try to recover the dead but get naught for my toil. The corpses
 lie around me in various states of decay and no matter how hard I
 try I can't bring life to their day. Even by touch of the sword they
 refuse to awaken. And I know they seek life not. And I know
 they like to rot forever. Even their lives were of no worth if in
 their eyes they hate the [bad word] even if it sets them free. Now is not
 the time to revive.

 [bad word] with naught in mind but to leave that hateful place behind. I
 enter darkened earth where De-syr has waited for me from the
 day of my birth. I cross the bridge of grace along a well worn
 path to satiate my flesh within the one they call De-syr.

 Sorrow, my contemplating. Loving hours passed, I spent my life
 anticipating sorrow. Thy cold embracing felt like love back then
 but now I know that I was tasting sorrow.