Refinement of the Mould - Who Dies in Siberian Slush

Once I woke up and realized…

Something is wrong, I’m terrified…

Fright thrilled my body, through it has run…

I touched myself and I have found —

That pale spot on my forearm…

With icy horror it was spread…

Friable structure that spot had…

And mouldly web amidst the spot —

That loathsome lace of pallid rot…

My nerves were strained in awful pain…

Gazing at (the) spot that grew again…

I’ve crossed the wall which leads behind…

I plunged asleep thus I was wound…

I went astray amidst the swamps

Amidst that haze, in filth alone…

I screamed for help being lost in bogs…

For some one close in… murky fogs…

Awoke in horror, terrified —

Completely covered with decay mould…

Like musty cheese, like rotting tree…

I yield with terror — flame for me!!!

Be purified!

In flames I cried…

Flames, clean my skin, Fire, scorch my fright!

Flame was my part, I was in Fire!

I’m burning now… I’m purified!