Oak spirit; wand.
Wizard with key and mask,
naked and white, down in the grave,
clothed only in the ashes of our world.
Along walls; long, pointed spears.
On the benches steel breastplates.
He slips in without a sound,
on the ground I see ashes from a fire.
I travel to the depths of darkness where everything is dead .
Into the dark realm of the heap,
there sit the silent dead.
Do not give way to fear
but travel to the waste of the world.
The roof covered with large shields ,
helmets, belts, knives and swords;
over the brown mold of the stone hall
a creature, a ghost of a woman!
I travel to the depths of darkness where everything is dead.
Seidman's neck in the tree outside,
hangs, his head it leans.
The cow bleeds, hears it hooting,
Seidman unties his knots.
Seidman collects the gifts
which the pale dead give him,
from old, dark stone tombs
he finds the most beautiful.
I travel to Kelio.
I travel to the depths of darkness where everything is dead.
Belt and breastplate, cakes and clothes,
Helmets and celestial weapons,
Runes and verses, dried berries,
the door to the grave is open!
From elves, the weapons forged,
to bright reborn dead,
those who fought against the wolves
in the world that is now desolate.
I travel to Kelio.
I travel to the depths of darkness where everything is dead.

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