I hear the croaking of a crow.
A shade is thrust across my view.
Weasel and fox go two by two
Across the path where I must go.
My horse's hooves can walk no more.
My seizured footman is done for.
The thunder cracks into a roar.
My soul is out and hears the sound
Of Charon calling underground.
I see into the earth's own core.
The river runs back to the source,
Upon a belfry stands an ox,
The blood is trickling from the rocks,
The asp and bear have intercourse.
Atop an ancient tower, a fresh
Serpent devours a vulture's flesh,
Inside the ice the fire burns blue.
The sun is now a cold black ball.
I see the moon about to fall.
That tree has moved from where it grew.