| Strolling all alone… across the ancient cemetery…- | 
| tell me, isn’t everthing here… of a timeless green?! | 
| I see that several visitors are also agthered here, | 
| having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard… just like me. | 
| i keep a chandle burning for myself so i won’t feel all alone; | 
| we should have done so, but we never celebrated anythin here at all. | 
| A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills, | 
| felling everybody… as it crawls upon the monuments…- | 
| only i escape its power, for the moment seem immune; | 
| yet, two eldery ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb | 
| are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain: | 
| «The dead are furios with you! | 
| as you’re wasting your precios time!» | 
| Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls; | 
| I hear the dead are calling: «sadness lies in wait in the hours before | 
| dawn!» | 
| These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us they are the silent witnesses of a reason about to pass; | 
| I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life’s finiteness, | 
| that i am filled with fear and worry… and so much shame because of this. | 
| Well, everthing I see, yeas all the iomages are blurred, | 
| it’s hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world. | 
| How should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored, | 
| considering the dreadful blindness with wich i have been born. | 
| We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all; | 
| I hear the dead are calling: «sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours… | 
| …right before the dawn!» |