Gedichte
The harpener's grief

Here I stand

Singing this song;

Far to the western wind,

As they shall hear my voices

Calling them with darkest lore.

Here I stand

Lonely and lost;

Far from the western shore

And the ones who left me

Never shall return.

Here I stand

Weeping in grief

Of what I did in western lands.

Oh, how I could wrong,

Fail the home that I once had!

Here I stand

Crying my tears;

Far from the western Lords

Who do not know mercy

For my bloodstained hands.

Here I stand

Playing my harp;

Far to the western light;

My brothers may find peace

But I shall wander alone.