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Winter ends in the yard, which I watch from afar
The spirits gasp for breath, slashing the wrists
The pulse becomes a stream of wound,
the stream embraces the melted earth
Until the end I wonder if neither of us
A silver moon sickle
curves over my head
Laughter comes from the yard, which is overshadowed by judgment
Joys belong to life I, sadness preys on wolves
My pack is full,
strong, fearless
Once more I will ring, let peace protect us
Sickle of the silver moon
my head bends over
until it falls
And finally the sickle round my neck wraps around
the silver moon
The wind reaches in the yard, where the head no longer goes ¤se not
The letter knocked on the door and told the distance
Just as if it had decided, the doom shook its branches
even though you know very well, I still have to be carried< br/>The sickle of the silver moon
over my head curves
until it falls
And finally the sickle round my neck wraps
the silver moon