The moors are sombre and dark
as though my heart's weariness they bear
melancholic is the moon,  even more the stars
the foreboding  mood pervades everywhere

I am lost in longing and reverie
where has love fled?  What has it to declare?
Is life but a lie?  Is hope in denial?
What's right? What's fair?

Through the rain-stained window I gaze
not a shimmer of light anywhere
only the haunting cry of a birdsong
and the sighs of winds in the eerie air-

sleep will elude me tonight
I'll be laden with my unrelenting care
destiny is not of my choice or call
my brokenness I'll still need to wear.