Long evenings full on longing
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Low-spirited my mornings
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Full of longing too my nights
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And all times the bitterest.
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'Tis my lovely I long for
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It is my darling I miss
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My black-browed one I grieve for.
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There's no hearing my treasure
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No seeing my marten-breat
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No hearing her in the lane
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Driving below the window
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Chopping the wood by the stack
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Clinking outside the cook-house:
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In the eart my berry lies
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In the soil she's mouldering
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Under the sand my sweet one
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Beneath the grass my treasure
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The one I grieve for.
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-----------------
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Elegy
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| Amorphis |
