Moorsong - Põhjast

Entrapped, in freezing mire here I’ve stood

Surrounded by dwarf birches, hoary reeds…

Now, facing down the pale and gibbous Moon

I’m sinking, stiff with cold and in too deep

Cruel frost splits tree-trunks

Wolven howls are carried by cold air from far away

The wind — it softly whispers while it prowls

The gurgling mire swallows me this day

Ice lays a cover onto my damp grave

The snow will form a proper burial mound

I only leave behind this sombre lay

That moorlands sing from deep beneath the ground