Part 1:
I kneeled upon to my morrow,
as I knew, it struck twelve at night
as though upon hemlock I choked ,
annexing dreams of my hope
Thou a old man,
Art Thou a devil,
known as destiny and desire,
I had felt it to my attire,
behind my weary heart .
My dreams are famished ,
I could compare to a "winter dusk''
feeling limned and sorrow upon a forgotten passionata.
Part 2:
O' may the sorrow rise
gleaming to cover the ice,
Ich am mere to the common and the above,
as constellations upon stars.
I mourn over my joy,
Not a vile about my sorrow.
I had no woe,
Butan, no plea for my decay.
I was a dweller by the down,
quite thou O' my soul,
I wish to cheridsh life once more,
To my mirth, I was hearty to all.
