O' Angel of death. Make haste across the violent waters. The tide is yet to come, for my death will surely follow. spare me your wrath O' lady soulless one. You are a farmer, on swift wings you ride, tilling the earth of its miserable life. Like grain my soul is ready for harvest. with your smooth bladed scythe you take me away to my home with my father, maker, and lover. O Angel of death, spare me your wrath, bring calm to the waters and make still my soul.
