| O mortis secretum, ubi finis nervorum?
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| O funeris algor, ubi sonus somniorum?
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| The insane wine of the night misled my soul
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| At the confluence of dream and of pain…
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| We dance under the closed eyes of paradise,
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| And our eyes tear the insane space
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| of the light.
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| Saltemus sub oculis coniventibus paradisi!
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| The voilence of the winter moon
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| spreads a mantle
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| Of cold icy pain over my petrified landscape.
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| Seized by the freezing frosts
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| of the diabolic winter,
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| Our hearts breathe the winds of sadness.
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| Saliamus, saliamus aeterno,
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| Saltemus, saltatum mortis!
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| Saliamus, saliamus!
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| But what is in my heart can only be read
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| by the winds
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| That gathered my words of pain.
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| The veil of the nigth falls at your feet
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| Revealing the views of the fiery sky.
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| Kyrie eleison.
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| The gentle sapphirian night wrapped me in its maternal warmth
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| And her hair, studded with stars,
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| had a scent of sensuality
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| As I lay embraced in her sweet caress.
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| How tender is the nigth
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| in her amorous delights.
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| Where are the flowers I gave you, my love?
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| The amaranth, the rose and the lily.
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| Buried within the glacial vault
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| of my thoughts,
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| Take from me this fading breath,
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| Enfold me in your veil of darkness
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| To celebrate the reign of black eternal night.
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| And in the snows, glittering
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| in the cold fragile moonlight,
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| Appeared the incandescent flowers…
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| The blood of angels,
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| Said one of our round.
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| Our blood.
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| We dance…
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| …and the blowing of the winds is our only music,
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| We dance. |