No longer the god of wisdom
No longer good at knowledge
Never reaching
The summit of the lofty peak
he was ordained to reach

Thus—an old man, a failure
As a scholar
As a poet
As a husband and a father
to a wife and children who never were

And everyone's dreams are broken
By the Mark of Abel
And cold unforgiving love
Fostering only stale memories
—What life is that to live
In the autumn of his days

Past glories are old and ring hollow
Reflecting the emptiness of my soul
That's lost its direction
And is spiralling out of control

It is the autumn of his days
Setting sun of Gorka's gaze
The winter is harsh, and long
In the land where the sun never rises
—"Just a setting of the sun
On the life-time of a sage"

And in the end
Destroyed by the Mark of Abel
For though he fought it
The Mark cannot be removed
The Mark will always win

So goeth he
In the twilight of his years,
The autumn of his days,
To khamsa wa `ishrîn to pray....