How blue the iris grew.
How grey the clouds gathered.
As oak leaves wandered in the wind,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How high the crows soar.
How loud the crickets chirped.
As windows slammed in the wind,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How loftily the sky roars.
How quickly the gale moves.
As the willow whirled in the wind,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How the birds hurry home.
How the plants await the rain.
As my eyes ambled around them,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How the lightning flashed
and how the thunder crashed.
As i walk through my pale garden,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How heavy my heart.
How dreary the scenery.
As the gods wept upon me,
melancholia rushed through my vein.

How it eclipse my tears.
How wholly it devoured me.
As i look upon my ephemeral life,
melancholia rushed through my vein.