Howl of the winter gale,
Ad astra ignotus mortem.
To claim my brittle bones,
A loathsome curse is life amidst the cold,
The rising sun brings no warmth,
To my aching soul,
My cries transpose themselves,
As shadows in caves of stone.
Darkness partook of me,
Condemned to dust the light departed reach,
Thunderous wind upon the frost,
Ices ore the plains,
A chalice of death is mine to quench the pain.