Steam rises through immovable freezing air, 

Sun fell down to the horizon yet. 

Dark infinite forests captured by winter greyness, 

Dark lying down slowly among trees, 

Silence rules, silence which precedes the storm, though. 

In the centre of the wheel of time 

In the very heart of darkness 

During the lunar transformation 

It spins delicate threads of balance. 

Before winter strikes in full force 

And wild frosts bury their sharp claws 

I will spend this night dancing with flashing shadows of spirits of the

deceased 

Then I enter the cold grey-like dawn 

And there in the entrails of gloomy foul weather 

Where damp place and icy breath bind us 

I will set off along paths covered with leaves that turned black, 

Along paths which like rivers lead 

Into ways running in the direction of return, 

Across the ravine in time.