Upon the dull nights of December,
Dark leaden and melancholy sombre,  
Midst the wan and grief I remember,  
The warmth of feelings that slumbers,  
From love to faint forgotten embers,  

A cursed barren heart that suffers,  
Without her silken touch shudders,  
Of pain and woe is torn in tatters,  
Merely her sublime countenance utters,  
The charming spirit of the heart's core,  

Bewildering in the vast vacant space,  
Sobbing the scars on the moon's face,  
Wandering all the night on its trace,  
On a quest to the stars trying to erase,
The murk nostalgia that I embrace,*

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