On days end, on days end...
Given the nature, am I not pygmy?
On this night,
the smell of ash is sweet.
Where had I gone,
Where had I gone from the Red Lady?
O lord of cinder, give me my dreams.
Shall I fuse my heart with timber,
For this I'm limper of my keen.
I give you life, I give you death
Where of thou my queen?
O lord of cinder, when you sleep
The laughter of death speaks
Evil, it is Noth- thou natural.
On day's end,
Only the smell of ash is
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