O, my crown is turning rusty,

My defence I cannot trust to,

Nights are poisoned with disgusting

Cawing of a crow.

From a tree a leaf is falling,

For my soul, as if, it’s calling,

And my soul will answer, moaning:

“You! Arise and go!”

I’m a king – my throne is swaying,

I’m a void, I am the aching

Of a heart that’s slowly failing,

Shining of a coin,

I’m dead lovers in Verona,

At a wedding I am foreign,

I am standing in an open

Field – I am alone.

I’m alone and not a fighter,

While the safety is in numbers.

Where’s at least one friend? – I’m howling,

Save my soul, o Lord.

Let me be green grass that’s growing,

Let me be a leaf that’s falling,

Sound of people who are talking,

Grey hair of the old.

With eternal peace bestow me,

Just a little of it show me,

Lace of curtain, gently flowing,

Flowers’ scent at dawn.

Give the shining of a lightning...

Be it easy life or striving –

All the same the pain is biting

At my very core.

At dark midnight it will wake me,

Weakness into power making –

So inscrutable and shaky

Is the way I go.

Somewhere, juvenile or ancient,

In a crowd or by myself there,

Through my life I’ll leaf then, pensive,

Being slave or lord.

Flame of tournament I’ll be there,

Armour’s ornament I’ll be there,

And from wisdom’s spring I’ll drink there,

Strict and all alone.

Cough and pain, my joints are aching

And the tiredness is waiting...

“Rise!” I’ll never..! “Rise!” I’ll never..!

“Rise!” ...I will... “And go.”