In you
The mists of magic turn
Transforming to the depths
The pitch of sadness:
Rise
Rise inhabitants of the ancient
Wealds ancient and old:
Rise
Your bones strew in the depths
Of tree-roots rise and go
Charm, charm, sadness of verse
The head is bent
The mouth eating black bread
The lips sipping drear water
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem