The scar of the brain is growing in my ear,
let me sleep in the bed of the year
where time swells over the wound like a wave
flowing relentlessely over my shroud.

Let me sleep with you and awake in my dream,
the pain from the frost and the joy from the fur,
where beckoning silence i repeat my song,
the life of my bread, the sweat in my eyes

is tears of death in the long running heart
i cry for you in the cave where i rave
wandering in the easy sharpening of the blade
the slow deadening of the club

is crushing me in the rashing of the dew.

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