• 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