Peace crippled; blinded by ominous smoke,

thorns dance.... and tickle at my throat;

Afraid to lose all that come near,

fear has nothing to hold dear;

Lady roaming the woods is repulsive: but a seer,

Brave the heart for another time to see her;

I may yet release this harboring ghost,

besiege another suitable host –

some souls are jubilant to bestow,

my one.... within, has nowhere left for another to grow;

I tell: this is my word – oath has been told,

menace, you go.