White wood and crimson leaves surround
My tongue swollen with fear
My pale face burns
I am become death
--
That dagger, o that hideous blade,
slay and fell the faceless beast.
My hands danced so gracefully
Slicing with will and power
--
And as the gates of dawn do open
I see my pure face in his
Pure as the earth that surrounds him
Pure as the peace he feels in death
In this wood I lament
for we had no quarrel
In cold blood he fell
In cold blood I weep