| He lies quiet now | |
| In the nothing | |
| And there is no epitaph | |
| No stone | |
| Yet - his legacy flows | |
| Like a river | |
| Walker of barren paths | |
| Seer of night | |
| Friend of shadows | |
| A carrier of light | |
| And his legacy flows | |
| Like a river from ice | |
| The hungry heart opens | |
| And drinks from this fountain | |
| So cold | |
| There are no promises | |
| In his solitary grave | |
| There is no salvation | |
| Only words | |
| But what then are these precious streams | |
| Of coldness from the heights? | |
| They will never reach the fields below | |
| What is this silent grave | |
| To those who never sought to find it? | |
| What is greatness to the dead? | |
| And his legacy flows | |
| Like a river from ice | |
| The hungry heart opens | |
| And drinks from this fountain | |
| So cold |
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