Like death's dark brother, I wander lonely through the night*
I silently load onto my cart those who were killed.
Body and bones, carcasses, bones, the victims of the night
I collect them. Bodies and bones, carcasses, bones,
I keep the streets free of corpses
I walk quietly through dark alleys, disembodied bodies only in my mind
The fuller my car becomes, the more so greater my gain
Black is my chariot, my dress and my horse
Feared by all and revered by many
A walking ghost, so the rumor goes
The collector of the dead, he has no face
If I meet someone on the threshold
between life and death
he still has to come with me
I'll end his misery

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