Letra de A Passage

He whom existence itself has marked Walks onwards... Below decrepid bones a path A narrow alley below oaken skies Which leave but few gaps For higher lights to pass. His obscure forest of time A command: Cross! Or crush yourself... He whom existence itself has marked With pirecing irons of twisted irrationality Struggles through. A narrow path nestling between thorns Rampant bushes, wild and intransparent Which appear to keep ahold of him To seize the irrational king Now victim, now prey To reaching arms, summoned by himself A passage, so narrow, so unsafe Leaves little space to evade These claws Over constant periods of time Annual steps beyond his path of sanity Have not remained annual As he discovered his ability To stumble over the same vicious rocks Which had encountered a million times before Dodging these rocks Will force him into all eternity To bow, To the sprouting green endless Once seeds he himself had sown...