From one side the water of thousand seas
clashes furiously on rocks and earth,
From quakes I scarce retain my knees
to stand strong and watch nature's birth.

On other side the steep, Grey hill on high
Is broken loudly in pieces by the thunder,
Thus stony ground upon which I rely
throws its parts to abyss which lays under.

The Grey moon, so near, lends me no light
To see completely scene spread out around,
See sail ship shot in air with tempest's might
As it was a ball, nay even a sound.

So small remains under my feet the ground,
Barely for one step it makes the room.
Satan calls me to his kingdom with shrill sound,
God tells me his garden always is in bloom.

Yet, hardly as I'm trying not to die,
For departure I no want reserve,
If I was even granted gift to fly,
Still I'd stay this wonder to observe.