Entrapped, in freezing mire here I've stood
Surrounded by dwarf birches, hoary reeds...
Now, facing down the pale and gibbous Moon
I'm sinking, stiff with cold and in too deep
Cruel frost splits tree-trunks
Wolven howls are carried by cold air from far away
The wind – it softly whispers while it prowls
The gurgling mire swallows me this day
Ice lays a cover onto my damp grave
The snow will form a proper burial mound
I only leave behind this sombre lay
That moorlands sing from deep beneath the ground