A place without designation, native soil without an abode, Quethe with your silentness, live without a breath, rustle and fall silent with the wind upon my arrival.
Let the driblets of grief trickle - through my veins pulsating life, throbing death - steadily around us Gigantic and trifling - upon my arrival.
Two kinds of equity. The deathless intentions distant bourn.
When I arrive.
Grain crackles, like cinder in the flames, and one-time it shall solidify under harvesting blades, a bawl in solitude when I arrive.
Indulge the blades. Withstand not the vice of Tulwod. Augment your spirit when I arrive. Recede not when I arrive.
Quethe with your silentness, upon my arrival night eternally reigns.