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A Thousand Winters
par
Winterfylleth
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This at least behoves every man That he his soul's course should heed How awful it will be When death arrives The kinship sunders Those that were together Body and soul Departed from men, the spirit In punishment or glory, death not discern While him here in the world An earth vessel remains The anxious ghost shall come Always after seven nights A soul, to find the body That, from which it had been taken Then shall call so sad With a cold voice The spirit to that dust Words of a soul departed After it, from its body were led "Why hast thou tortured me? Foulness of earth!" "Why dost thou torture me? I art not the food of worms!" "I within thee dwelt and I might not go From, where with flesh I had invested with me Thy sinful lusts oppressed So that to me full oft it seemed That it were a thousand winters To thy death-day."
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