RIMA LXVI

Where do I come from? Seek the steepest
            path you can find.
The trail of bloody footprints
            on the bare rock,
the remains of a soul torn apart
            by the sharp thorns,
            will show you the path
            that leads to my cradle.

Where am I going? Cross the darkest
            and the saddest wasteland,
a valley of eternal snows and constant
            melancholy mists.
Where you find a solitary stone
            with no inscription,
            where forgetfulness reigns,
            there will be my tomb.