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In the evening of a grey day, a bleak dayI strayed into the dim silence of the hallowed trees Where the fir-trees whisper of those been, those gone Where the sacred earth still hides all those we once loved "O father, hear these words, your son is not made for this world Faint-hearted and careworn, into this vile life I was hurledIn the woods the fiends sigh, I swear I heard the demons neigh On the seashore I espy the dreadful void under the tides "Ill-assorted with this life, these cares Each moment I am waiting for the worst to come my way Dark berry from my mother's womb; a frail oneI was affrighted at my birth, bewildered from the startBetter it would be to stay in the shadesIn the thicket of the dead, in the groves of death Here I would lie to the end of the days "Hear me now, my hapless son Warn away all yours fears Make good use of your brief days Life may be grim but death is more austere By yourself you sit and waitBy yourself you will have time to repent" "In these lowly halls No moon will beam, no sun will shineIn these narrow rooms No tears are seen, no laughter heard" At the dawn of a quiet dayI strolled from the woods, returned to the hearth And with a restful mind I roamed The dreary shores, the darkling wilds Greeting all the days that befall Taking life as it comes.