I...

Dream.
Armistice has arrived...

Silver stone among the sea,
heartstrings feel thine love for me...

Sometimes I sleep at night
empty of myself, inebriated...

I
The stars above the city aren't shimmering...

I give not of myself to thee,
a love like thou has given me...

Burn
The hate...

My nightingale sings of passing flesh,
which daily sought to find itself in lover's eyes...

Come, sweet death,
into the arms of my embrace...

Death has acquired a place here,
the roses have all turned to dirt...

What summer's day has passed?
Yet well too soon...

How do I love with kind heart for thee alone?
To live a life where I meet thy presence not...