Chained to a black post In the street of Rjukan Surrounded by mountain And industrial fog Lifting stones in anger Rotten smell of ironskin Grey sky mourning Last glint of light Local dogs are watching His last silent fight Condemned by the court of old Condemned by parochial laws Scratching to the bone Feeding the mind with horror Nocturnal shadows Feast upon wooden walls A cold wind Licking at his rotting torso