| This is a world blessed by the victims
|
| Of carnal tragedy
|
| The humans ritual of love and adoration
|
| Dense-woven history
|
| Sentiments decide existance, the artwork that I’ve bled
|
| Bizarre she defined her presence
|
| With the lament of the undead
|
| When her eyes have bathed in danger
|
| And the moon had new design
|
| In the cradle of our desire all the blood has turned to wine
|
| But the love no longer remained than just a stir to survive
|
| In this labyrinth of perfidity for my mistress to recover
|
| I’ll forever strive…
|
| Dem Sterbenden — die Hoffnung
|
| Dem Propheten — Der Fluch
|
| Der Liebe — die Dichtung, die dem Sterben entsprung…
|
| The night is crystal clear — words are sent from pictures
|
| Sounds that I can’t hear — as weakness wins my body
|
| Selling cheap my soul — and its bleeding heart
|
| Eclipsing the whole — planet, history and light…
|
| Sometimes, when the sun hides in the back of the earth
|
| When the hungry souls, to whom pain gave birth
|
| Embalm their coldness with the blood’s warmth… then
|
| I can clearly hear the calling of a lonely and distant star
|
| In the shade of the abhorrent
|
| Yet in the still of the nights — In the still of the moment
|
| When the moment dies
|
| There she gently approaches
|
| With the new meaning of life…
|
| In a haze of hazard, in the withering chill
|
| Baleful’s the passion, when hearts stand still
|
| A flood of sentiments entwined
|
| Rattle thru my falling soul
|
| I slumber against the spirit of time
|
| Like a stranger in a foreign world!
|
| In a park, along the alleys, stained with blood and tears
|
| In the hour, when dusk disperses
|
| Its colors on the white statues
|
| Then I’ll wander as a phantom of the posthumous regrets
|
| And my fiery lips I’ll freeze
|
| With the kiss of these unrivalled statues
|
| «Si-n asta noapte sfirsese printr-un sarut
|
| Poeme — agonizate de-un infinit si-un inceput»
|
| «The all-engulfing dawn of habitude shows his claws again-
|
| Do you still remember our oath? |
| — Til light do us part!?»
|
| Come forth, Feline
|
| Mere moment of melancholy
|
| Drink deep of my desire
|
| The quenchless fire
|
| That unites our tameless embers…
|
| Come forth, Feline
|
| Tortured by our final duet
|
| Let thy pale fingers slide on the petals of the flowers
|
| That thee stained with mortal, coagulated blood…
|
| On the walls, midnight closes even the stoical eyes
|
| Of the unsleeping portraits
|
| And the white-eye of a lonely candle falls asleep
|
| Into its own startling solitude…
|
| Silent heart desires
|
| The balm that drives away the human waste
|
| Oh come, infidel duchess
|
| Shrouds of frost fall furiously down… of thee I taste again
|
| Deciphering eternity of its ruined scripts
|
| Of the tenebrious river I pleasantly sip
|
| Upon lifeless leaves autumn has banished
|
| Arises my lovelorn aura’s odyssey
|
| «Un ornic cu rostiri funebre, suna amiaza-ndirjit
|
| Iar ceru-mprastia tenebre, peste parcul amortit»
|
| …Returned into that park as a whole
|
| Under the questioning eyes of stars and heavens
|
| Dreaming away on the lost love I’ve recovered
|
| Death suddenly rises
|
| Annoyed that he couldn’t save me He turns pale from envy
|
| The seasons vanish and so does this story
|
| As the same poets hand raises the pen
|
| He pictured this spectacle with…
|
| The actors fade on the dreary alleys of that elder park
|
| Only two nightshades remaining —
|
| Celebrating the sunset of ages while their sullen laughter
|
| Lustfully haunts the mortal seeds of ruin…
|
| Nights were crystal clear — words were sent from pictures
|
| The colors have seared — these pages, whereas
|
| The darkest hour revealed — the mysterious hand
|
| Which dutifully sealed
|
| This episode’s arcane End. |