A circle of light fell onto the snow,
That fell gently and covered my woes.
I had looked everywhere in search for a home,
But where I went met only the wind’s moan.
I have longed to sit, to rest, to sleep.
Like the distant pile of logs that lay in a heap.
That longing to sleep, I knew, will be the kiss of my death,
Like the dead wilderness and the frosty cloud I call breath.
Yet I ploughed on in search for a home,
On the dimly lit cobbled stone road, cold and all alone.
The bitter cold swirled around me, plunging into me like a knife,
As I fell slowly into that deep eternal sleep I had dreamt all my life.