|
The crescent was red and transition was dying |
|
For an instant forgotten and my moon would be gone |
|
The night was resplendent and today was incessant |
|
I closed my eyes and my crescent was gone |
|
Who is he, who extinguishes fire? |
|
It is I, It is me |
|
Who is she, who resolves in devotion? |
|
It is you, It is me |
|
History's ever and the patterns are ceaseless |
|
Recurrence's my sentence and failure's my crop |
|
I vanquish myself with a sword of abortion |
|
Thence torpid I rest in miscarriage alone |
|
Who is he who ruins desire? |
|
It is I, It is me |
|
Who is she who awakens the fire? |
|
It is you, It is me |
