The sword of time will pierce our skins.
Mellom deg og meg var ei ny dør opna,
og nokon, ennå utan andlet,
venta på oss der.
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!