Feel the red curtain,
The night opens a discreet picture
That still chirps about the burned-down marching band
We can no longer forget.

Your eyes still speak of
    The boys in the black attire
    Girls in wedding dresses
    Abandoned mother in the perfume of war
    Wearing masks of serendipity
That were consumed by the flimsy fire

And talk of the devil,
Talk of the leader,

His dark eyes were set ablaze
And his heart on his sleeve
Half eaten out
The parade, though, kept marching along
With its beautiful brides and paper snow
In the dark and discreet night

I could not wake
The romance they inflincted
Between us who knew none of each other
But the ode I will be sending to your most loved parade no longer
Will never reach anyone neither carcasses nor night masses

So what will we get from our early midnight memory
We confronted before the sun went down?
   The songs chanted with death’s drum rolls
   The steps taken with dwarfed soles and melted eyes
   Or the love you could not relish for the boys in the black attire
                                                          ­           Girls in wedding dresses
                                       Abandoned mother in ******* serendipity
                                      Or for the marching band
                               That will never pass us again?

And here I lie,
But they bring memories like a festival
Under the moonlit night
Presenting the illness of romance between life and death

And here I love you,
My visions of the discreet night
The parade of the wrong and right
My carcass of the burning life
We try to live upon a single stroke
Of two-faced departure

And here you love me,
As only
A parade of paradox
Unforsaken