The heart beats frantically in an icy rhythm.
In Irish a journey of madness, maddened.
Hunted, threatened, without mercy,
you p? escape from fate's fear.
Fleeing in wildness towards reed-heavy bog,
?eyes white in mist.
Shine from a knife edge in greyish night,
life in the body knocks possessed.
Torn to the ground by icy grip.
The fight for life a final game.
The stalker gives and takes what he promises,
you are your fate and the fight is over.
The forest has darkened, the moon has risen.
The grip on the knife is your own