---

I pretend it is black

The light that I see

This heat that I feel

When you are near

Warms only you

From your side I turn to cry

Your delight strangles me

No wind no harm no touch no scar

No love no fever not now not ever

In her devout hunger I starve

From your side I turn to cry

Your delight strangles me

From my woe you rise and feel pity for me

As we may be poetry I composed

We are here to be untold

Nothing came to be

lovers are not from this world

Nothing came to me

You gave me nothing

My heart she will clean with her own blood

(Riikonen, Mäkitalo, Erämaa)