A feathery face faintly visible Peering between a parting in the trees. The morbid brown monk-cape hides and Covers the night-dweller, known by its screech, Ghostly sorrowful grave-digger silverling: Swooping silently in unswerving death For mice about at midnight’s hour. The chalk-like face charms and terrifies With piercing eyes – isles of blackness That searingly seek out the soul’s depths of night. Swiftly bone-hard talons swing by The pale Moon’s light – the mother of nightlings. Screeching Valkyrie, voicing doomsongs In mournful mist-like sorrow-sadness.