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Odland

de Asmodeus

The wind streaks the last green and the summer days have passed.
Fog engulfs the forest, in odor andtwilight world descends.

A last ray of the old bliss trickles over the valley
and scathes the darkened site, forest and heath shine

like a spring days reflection glistens on the skin of winter.
Why should this all fade away?

Wandering through a deep glen, where no
rememberance of bright days is left.
Leaves are melting the moisture of the air,
languishing for the last elixir of life.

Soon only drought boughs will rise

to the welkin at dusk,
to demand a ray of dying life.

Shadows, who have been holding their protecting hands over this idyll,
grow pale in this embrace of final salvation.

While this evening is dozing,
I bestow my favour on the discord of this ambience.

The autumnal wind endresses the universe in shroud and his moaning dies away in eternity.

Coldness enthrones the warming fulfillment,
which spoiled me and draws the veil of oblivion over the scene.

A last breath is being exhausted to bottomless abyss,
and the land drowns down in everlasting dust.

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