Which of the men is so prudent and wise
as to say who drives me on my path,
when I rise up strong, at times
severe,
powerfully prominent, sometimes vengeful,
I travel throughout the land, burn houses,
seized plunder? Smoke rises,
grey over rooftops. The trees on
earth
shall be, the violent death of men, when
I shake the woods, the flowering forests,
fell tall trees, roofed with rain, by
the highest powers, driven in my
wandering,
widely sent; I have on my back what once
covered men, body and soul, both in water.
Say who covers me, or how I am called,
that bears that burden.
