Ochlan

Oh, would the stars might mourn for this our comrade,
    Weep tears of light across a riven sky,
Or that the rain which falls upon his homeland
    Were bidding him a long last goodbye,
Or at the least, a blossom drop to kiss him
    From off a tree where springtime breezes blow;
For then we’d not be all alone in grieving.
    The world would sorrow too, the world that he loved so.

But silence reigns among the suns and planets.
    The leaves are dumb, the weather’s deaf and blind.
We’ve only us to keen for this our comrade
    And know that he was bright and strong and kind.
Ochone, ochone! He’s gone like any sunrise.
    Ochone, ochone! He laughed while he was here.
Ochone, ochone! He is no more forever.
    What’s left for us lies still, yet still is very dear.