May you know regions of sorrow, pain and doleful rain. I want you bitten by an infernal serpent, a place of no rest, no hope shall ever possess you and your filth. May you rot in a lost field among the barrens and venom, the dead trees and sadness of this place. Head in red mud, suffer and suffering, immortal hatred, sparklings blaze, field of fire, a Leviathan guards you, a sea of demons, your uneasy crawl, awake or arise, the autumnal leaves burn, daughters of Belial torment you, a dim eclipse, a cherry-blonde tree, your vast richness that grows in Hell, eternal darkness, eternal empire, eternal pain hatching abominations, a fire inside the ice, your face, so spake the grisly meadowlark merchant and messenger, a fugitive with a fatal tongue, from all her woe, death on you.