A Thousand Winters - Winterfylleth

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.»