They clutch his limbs. Strike down but one - with eldritch cry 'twill vanish midst the ebon branches, there to lurk until the forest's very bounds. Such yearning torments them. Another shall gaze upon his face, and shrieking, bear him to his watery grave.

The passerby beholds: what fearsome shadows steal through darkness, with eyes like burning coals and talons wrought of iron, that crawl upon the withered boughs. In mortal dread he starts and turns to run, - the navki follow.

Pale as bleached cloth do they wander now, pale as the moon's cold glaze, their eyes would no longer see through tears.

Pale as bleached cloth do they wander now, pale as the moon's cold glaze, their eyes would no longer see through tears.

And in silence, it screams
Locks itself from inside
Sorrow looks through glass gleams
While emptiness burns wide.