I gaze at death and then I gaze at you,
With closed eyes I sink to my own self deep,
I find a nightingale that the thick dew
Has soaked its wings and sent them into sleep.
I find and a nightingale whose known loud voice
Is now burdened with doubt and barely heard,
Each time it wants by a song to rejoice
An old vow comes across, and choke the bird.
As if past that lives still in form of blame,
And a dew of a never ending dawn,
They both reside to keep my creature tame
In a wet cage at the end of life's lawn.
What an instant! in which I break the cage,
And shatter its bars with tremendous rage.
