Wandering restless through the hillside on a cold
December day, my solitary journey guided only
by the pilgrims high in the sky.
Fog invades the lands blocking the last rays
of the dying sun and a veil of mist and
serenity gracefully covers the night.

The shadowy trees of the forest,
once imbued with beauty and life
now twisted and eternally frozen
by a shroud of snow and ice.

As the glow of the dawning sun vanishes
in the withered sky my eyes wander up through
the whispering winds and watch the glare of the stars dilute.

Exposed to the frost of the icy winds my bittered soul still rejoys.

As the howl of the wind enchants me
more than the sweetest sounding human voice.

Freed from mens insanity I feel my grief
stricken heart still burn bracing my soul
through night's loneliness I sence a glimpse of shelter return.

Burdened with the insight of my loneliness
I continue my journey through this night.

Passed have the times when the glimmer of
hope filled my heart with gentle delight.

All the years that the currents of fortune have
planted the seeds of my grief my eyes have
been fooled by the masks of joy,
my desperate hopes deceived.

So let us now gather the harvest of the past solitary days.

And bath our peace craving eyes in sin's magnificent grace.

The night shall pass and a cold morning breeze shall
obscure the traces of my pitiful existence.
For not a stone shall mark the place where
silence embraced me and guided my cheerful
soul into the charm of everlasting solitude.