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And she sang a beautiful song and then passed from here |
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like a swalow through th sky |
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and over the bodies of bloody trees... |
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don't say that was a dream, a handsome wraith |
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or the last screen of a termless scene |
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for the shines of a morbid sun in fall |
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horizon is a dungeon to naught |
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so I searched for my burned wings |
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to flay, to escape from here with the mourner winds |
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-but- why all my prays will turn to curse against |
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myself?...against myself... |
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her divine spell had a feeling so vague |
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such inchoate story of ashes and dust |
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a rapture such sinking at eternal dream |
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by the end for depression and fading in dusk |
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now vailing is no more my calmness and rest |
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as torn soul has bleeding, the wings are too broken |
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then I've searchd for a window to escape from myself |
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-but- she wrote on my skin that suicide is the way... |
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I've a secret among all secrets |
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like a blue rose among all the red roses |
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I'll show you a pathway to return to the timeless moments |
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mourner queen of sorrow, watch the youthfull blossoms |
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and its mortal vernal hopes, at the depth of coldest ground |
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where the roses are plaintful forever... |
