Meagre trees in the shrouds,
As olde as the stones....
Mourners of abandonåd love,
Fornever their woes shall grow silent.

O how many times may the moon has shone -
Reflected in these black lakes?
Should it be that we can hear,
The woes of those who ceased their lifes?
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/e/empyrium/mourners_20263416.html ]
O so old they are...
They bare the neverending grief...
Age-old miserability
Ancient bitter beauty

Lost is the hope of those,
Who walk the moors with pain in heart.
...and all joy it sinks,
Burried deep, forever presumed dead.

O so old they are...
They bare the neverending grief...
Age - old miserability,
A bitter beauty thrilling me