I am a lonely wanderer, who has lost his way.
And now finds himself in a jungle of thorns,
Whichever path trodden must pierce and bleed my feet
And temper my pained soul that endlessly screams.
Droll clouds tirefully mask the shadows of my steps
Making distances dwindle and unseen horizons fade
Where small turns can magnify to terrific depths
And bear me away from the open fields, wide lakes.
I am a pilgrim in an unholy land, far from sanctity,
Where joy is quaffed like a sweet nectar of the gods
And luxuries become the earth's sun, soil and wind,
Where is my menthis, where is my paradise, my eden?
