Elegy - Amorphis

Long evenings full on longing

Low-spirited my mornings

Full of longing too my nights

And all times the bitterest.

«tis my lovely I long for

It is my darling I miss

My black-browed one I grieve for.

There"s no hearing my treasure

No seeing my marten-breat

No hearing her in the lane

Driving below the window

Chopping the wood by the stack

Clinking outside the cook-house:

In the eart my berry lies

In the soil she"s mouldering

Under the sand my sweet one

Beneath the grass my treasure

The one I grieve for.