Bila Retak Kota Hati: Part II - Loss

desidera te

I would not with much palabra compose,
when my songs, I realise, are not prose,

when they are compared to thine
they well by far mine outshine.

For when thou I beholdest in my mind.
a pang of desire doth pierce my head.

You rob me of my peace at times,
although with much merry do I try,
I never could get thee of my mind.

My dearest flesh,
I break with regret,

when ghosts of memories past come shrieking in,
and in my wildest dreams they doth break,
jolting me awake cold sweat and blood,

Alas! peace hath left me, for in thee I have loved,
and in thee I will ever be.

And my peace doth lieth with thee,
in the darkness of thy soul.

I still pine at the memory,
of thy gentle Syren Song,

that beckoned an aching broken breast,
with sighs of gentle tenderness
that now the phantoms past hath gone,
replaced by the chant of a Syren Choir,
Hark! I thought I couldst hear thy clear cold voice:

"Come! Come! Let us away! Let us away my love!"

Then,
like a vision in a thick fog,
the song is gone, I hear it no more.
I wake up once again, in a sweat so cold,
pining once again for thy frosty voice,
to sear my heart numb from all pain.

I miss you.