Calm, quiet and menacing
He rises between the forests.
Forging his own path,
Nothing holds him back, down to the field into the valley.
Only the silver light of the moon ,
that breaks through the fir trees to me,
paves my way.
Desolation surrounds my thoughts,
which is clear as the virgin water of a spring
That breaks from the mountain .
The forest wind whispers about her,
The beauty to which I lost my heart.
Pain that will never end.
Love that drives me forward every night .
To find her again in the stories
The forest's frosty breath.
But she lay there, the snow stained with blood, smeared.
Her veins opened.
Devotion.
The blade guided by that hand,
which stiffened her tears every night before.
So her spirit calls me anew every night'
to her in the forest.
Whispering about her suffering,
with which I blessed her.