Wishless death


I've jealous to the twisted older trees
because there isn't a thing I twist that

I've jealous to this grave I slept
because it's not my bosom where to sleep

I've jealous to the river creeps on earth
because there isn't a hope for creep

I've jealous to the winds of gray woods
because I've not a power to whisper

I've jealous to this white wide winter
because there isn't a white spot in my spirit

I've jealous to the falling of my tears
because here isn't height in the end of depths

I've jealous to myself of mourner
because there isn't a mourn for myself

I've jealous to death (which) is my wish
because there isn't a death wishes me



Last moments of my life
(Instrumental)