Fog over the swamp
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The howl of the wolf covers his tracks.
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I would think that I was drunk -
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So he drank only cold water.
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From the jug that you gave me
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Escorting you on the road
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From which I will never return
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Wait - don't wait, never coming back.
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And do not close the ring of gray hills,
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And narrow is the path along the edge of the rain,
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And do not look - you will not find traces,
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What the Heather Warrior left behind when he left.
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Like a wounded animal
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I silently walk along the string.
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I'm not standing, believe me
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So that you shed tears for me.
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So that you follow in the footsteps of my blood in the darkness -
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On lingonberries in the moss,
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To the gate, behind which is cold and darkness, -
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You don't know, it's cold and dark there.
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And do not close the ring of gray hills,
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And narrow is the path along the edge of the rain,
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And do not look - you will not find traces,
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What the Heather Warrior left behind when he left.
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You will breathe one day
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Tart incense of the October moon,
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A knife will move in the heart
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The pain will rise from deep within.
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Are you waiting for the embodiment of trouble,
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Spirit of gloomy steel
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To give me another drink of water,
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This drunken crystal water?
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But do not close the ring of gray hills,
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And narrow is the path along the edge of the rain,
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And do not look - you will not find traces,
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What the Heather Warrior left behind when he left.
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And do not look for traces in the frosty haze,
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What the Heather Warrior left behind when he left. |