On my back I carried the coffin in which my father lay. /
Bent low by its weight, I staggered forward step by step. /
My pace slowed, the burden was too great, it was beyond /
me.
'Lean is the dull steel flashed white in the sun / Like a sudden lifting of the white-leaved abele, / Flushed from the raw thongs of the birch-tree / The white wood flies through the mists of morning.'