I climb up the stairs
To the wooden mansion
Inside there is no light
In the oaken hall
It's so rare to find
This place calm and quiet
No man is seeking shelter
From the autumn night
The fireplace is cold
For the flames died long ago
Hearing my own heartbeats
And the wind outdoors
I fetch some rind of birch
To lit the fire again
A beacon in the night
Though it will stay unseen