I can hear the hushed voices
In this hollow place full of
Hollow faces.
Overflowing rivers made
Of pure sadness
As well as pretended.
My eyes start to burn,
Bleeding transparent
Drops of dark yearn,
Tardily walking down my cheeks
As in unison to the black song
That surrounds this place.
But it isn't because the flame
Between us is now dead.
It is because I found
Myself jealous of his state.
Laying in the everlasting bed
Of kings and fables,
Whom dew of slaughter I see fall,
Now a slayer of life duration
That the northern kiss has killed.
How lucky could he be?
He'll see the glory of the King
He'll stand just right in front of Him
He won't see the sky's black cloak
He'll just travel the Hel road.
And again, I found myself standing,
Contemplating my beloved,
Whom beating windows are now closed,
Laying there in black clothes.
