Paroles de The Old Man

My heart is a prisoner of the neverending nets of sorrow. By each of my footsteps the flowers desiring death make a eulogies about my legs. The evening of life is coming, the hair is getting grey in lonely thoughts I hear message of the Underworld. Sitting at the life side I am thinking about the past, the Underworld. Shaky touch of old hands is breaking hoops of life trying to loosen from the shackles of the death. What power it must be which created me into this gigantic mystery as the flower bud in the midnight forest. The life is coming to its end to pass away in shadows of tombstones. The life must be called off to have a drink of sorrow and light in funeral flame. I love this life, I will also love the death.