In the lowest deep beneath a lower deep,
A voice of whisper runs across mine ears,
The immortal dirge stands against the noisome chatter,
Of which song clears distempered foul.

Those coveters of death, of all things transitory and vain.
Who turn away from the earths love.
Are destined to be dissolved and to fleet hither,
forever to be judged by monstrous hand.

Forever in allegiance to thy pure earth,
That if slain, thy form be among dark void,
I would profess, REFORMED! for firnament to hear,
and bring the faithless to know of love,
with their bodies pasted betwixt the pillars.

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 10th of Niuran, in the year 506 MA.