Pieces of the night fly through the air;
And dawn on me did the dry morning;
A flaccid one with no creative fair
And, in that noise, I found myself drowning.

Where is my love and his madness young;
For all he thinks of has been lost long;
My ******'s soul has been provoked
So I must **** to relieve the shock.

With these vitriolic beasts by my side,
I can laugh but with a millstone heart;
And see them with a rancorous sight
In search of the poems t'at were burnt apart.

With the brutal sun upon my hair;
I can but think of drowning somewhere;
T'at some scorching fire shall eat of my remains;
I want not to live, nor t' be seen again.

Like a ghastly shadow, growing and fleeting and fading;
Like a curse t'at blows through my head;
Like there is stay no more, but escape
Like there is love no more, but ****.

Like there is life no more, but death;
Like there is hope no more, but grief;
Like life within the trolley of silence
Like joy within the cold arms of abstinence.

Like cries encompassed by withered tears;
Like a true love that has to crawl through sorry fears.
Like a ****** by that one insisting charm of thee;
Like the loveliness thou awakened within me.

Like a piece of letter so warm as poetry;
Like its magnificent sight, that is fuller than I am.
Like a snowfall whose beauty never dies;
Like the conceited sun, who shuts down in its own lies.

Like tears that have been too much;
And the delight that was once too brief.
Like my languid soul, feeling too short of breath;
Like a dead tree, not too content in its death.

Like summertime's egregious armour;
Who favours evil and amorous glamour;
I have always hated the sun, I truly have;
I detest it for its futile destiny and mirth.

I have always hated the sun's offspring;
For they are perpendicularly singing;
A song that my heart wants not to hear
A haughty melody I never wrote.

I have always hated its dull crimson lights;
And the yellow codes in its circles;
And so I'll never allow it into my heart
In life and in death, united or apart.

Like the heavens' bountiful delight;
I shall wait for thee in thy wise daylight;
I shall come again, I shall come back
I shall step up from t'is wretched wreck.

I shall return to my immortality;
Like t'ose in my dearest tales and poetry;
In the beauty of old stories told;
I am a creature of the night and cold.

But not that of the morning and sun;
All is folly by the sickly moon;
Pampered just like their sickly wordlings;
Evil in their mouths and wrongdoings.

To them there is no sleep between life and death;
Nor there is peace in their realms of slumber;
And their rivalry, which ends at their tombs
Among those who have retreated, back home.

Where is my lover now? My dreams are bad;
And so is my saddening soliloquy;
For it tells not of my solitary silence
I would want not to see it in person.

Where is my lover now? My dreams are mad;
There is no meaning within all these songs;
For my story lies just in thee
'Tis crying out not to them, not anymore;

Where is my lover now? My dreams are sad;
They could but here my hoarse voice;
T'is world is but vileness and evils
And the real me is not here, but there.

Where is my lover now? I am dreaming too late;
But that my heart shan't cry any more;
There are, though, more dancing legs on the moors
And so my gardens are by thy frozen doors.

I am trapped, but not afraid that it shall last;
For the ice and snow shall come to free me;
I left my sunny past and shall leave again
To meet you again in thy most beautiful seasons.

Below me, there is yet a tower fat and small;
But stands not in it a quiet reading hall;
Whose soul says as many lies as the emeralds
With such immeasurable words but false.

As my love for thee is the one wild reason;
For me to wait for the fall season;
In which the pink buds shall again turn grey
Like the love I've felt again for thee, today.

As my love for thee is the foolish sin;
For me to wait while 'tis not seen;
Where I but glimpse just the sunny leaves
That breathes not so long as poetry lives;

As my love for thee is the maddest thought;
For me to wait whilst there is no hope;
That I feel still, when my heart is broken
That I long still, when no love is given;

As my love for thee is the breakthrough;
For me to seek when I shan't see through
To long for fall where all is green
To dream of a far visage, unseen;

As my love for thee is immortal;
For 'tis love is as undead as you are;
And I love thee in each wind and breath
Just like I'll love thee in life and death.