And he whispers I wanted this. It is for this I chose you, You are my passion, mine til the end of the time --- my bird of ice - in armour - Mine...

We shall not escape Hell...

We shall not escape hell,
my passionate friend,
wee shall drink black resins -
we who sang our praisers to the Lord
with every one of our sinews,
even the finest.

We did not lean over cradles or
spinning wheels at night,
and now we are carried off by an
unsteady boat
under the skirts of a sleeveless cloak.

We dressed every morning in... I do not know,
and we would sing our paradisal songs at the
fire of the robbers' camp.

In starry nights, in the apple
orchards of Paradise.
-Gentle girls,
my beloved friend,
we shall certainly find ourselves
on Hell !