| What is this tragic and severe symphony that I hear, called love?
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| So macabre in lust and yet so sweet and delightful in its taste
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| It leaves my poor heart as a bleak shadow overwhelmed by the cursed darkness
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| In mourn imprisoned forever strangled by own hands. |
| I beg thee;
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| Please blow my candle The source of my mortal life
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| And bless me with the gift so that I may end all this with me…
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| Now I witness decay for I am the one who withers…
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| My bleeding wounds are rotting with a stench o’so disgraceful
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| Teeth and claws are sunken deep into my flesh
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| Nails are thrusted inot (my) palms and feet…
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| Am I to carry the burden of those who betrayed me and my feelings…
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| Before their sickening eyes and in front of mine…
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| Cursed by thee, fool, who claims to false words
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| For liar follows liar, both in act and in tounge
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| Indifference of existence this pattern thou hast created
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| It sparkles in its weakness…
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| Already immortal without even having had to live
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| Existing to bee seen, yes; |
| but only as the creator decides…
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| We die in a circle of despite |
| An endless roundabout around our worthless aspects
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| Only awaiting extinction…
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| A gray teared face awaits the cold lips of death
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| Which at last shall draw my final breath… |