Текст песни Гросс Мари - Ведьма

The light of the last candle will not warm the soul,
The wind howls sadly, and there is no strength to listen.
My lonely house is hidden in the wild,
The path to it is overgrown with chopped blackberries.

Like a knife through the heart, thoughts hurt,
That is forgotten by everyone, that I live in exile.
A lonely evening is ruining my soul:
The bitter fate of the poor witch, who will love her?

I wander like a blind man in the autumn twilight,
I cannot find salvation anywhere from pain.
And trouble scratches on the doorstep
I should close the door sooner, but my lock is broken.

2007