Biting air blows from the North,
With its fists so adamant and serrated
Biff, biff, biff it lands me thrice

My chestnut sorrel skin cracked
Through its arroyos, you see the flowing crimson water
Like red worms on a lousy rainy day
Crawling up, out the brown soil, with its heads
Poked to the sky, thirsty for nature's richness.
The freshness, my rusty body can never offer.

My love tells me I'm a dead weight.
Buried in his smelly bed all day
No food I touch, no emotions I effuse
No words I effuse, no souls I touch,
I'm nothing but a full of red worms.

Hit me, the boreal wind,
Pour the raw rain
Let my hellborn worm babies
Poke their heads up to the sky.