I am the wild hunter
Who stalks the aeons
To strike the hapless traveller
And carry him to God.

I am the hunter,
Who hunts you
To carry you back
To your beginning.

Beware my golden bow,
My strong arm will bend it double
My clear eye will take aim
And you will be my bounty.

Stand bravely, poor tourist,
When I come upon you.
My fiery arrow will pierce your breast
And you will be helpless before me.

Tenderly, you tremble before me,
With shaking fingers, unbutton your shirt
Bare your breast.
You know dimly what is needed.

Here, my brave soul,
Soften as I release the flaming arrow.
The aim is true,
The necessary blow is struck.

Ah, sweet traveller, you have given all that you are.
The widow's mite is the greatest gift.
The arrow finds its mark
And sets you afire.

Come, burn, my traveller,
Stay at the precipice,
Risk all, find all,
Your all is the key to the kingdom.

I am the wild hunter
Who tracks the paths of the ages
Looking for hungry travellers
To ask everything of them.

Tremble before me,
Firm in your fear,
And face what is required.
My arrow will find you.

I am the wild hunter
Who knows that the faintest heart
Can carry the greatest load.
I bring the necessary blow
And deliver you to God.

Come, my simple traveller,
Continue your journey.
Be ready, I will find you again,
And carry you away with me.