I ran into a sorcerer, walking across the meadow
He said he went hunting for an evil shadow
I asked if he would call the spirit of the dead
He said I also could, but that wouldn't stand me in good stead
The sky was getting darker above the callow
He handed me his staff which glowed sallow
Then the sun rose, and the clouds fled
The spirits disobeyed my summons, and my heart bled
''The realm of the dead is void of love and hate
Neither dark nor light is able to penetrate
You can't withdraw the deceased out of there
Of the living should you take care, ''
He said, and hit the trail like one possessed
I was left by myself, sick at heart and depressed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem