The snow-tracks of my friends I see,
Their foot-marks do not trouble me,
For ever left alone am I.
Then wherefore should I fear to die?
They to the last my friends did cherish 5
And to the last were good and kind,
Methinks ’tis strange I did not perish
The moment I was left behind.
Why do I watch those running deer?
And wherefore, wherefore come they here? 10