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

Dream.
Armistice has arrived...

I...

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

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

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

You would dream catch me
free-falling into ambrosia...

I have loved thee centuries
before thy birth, ages waned...

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

Die in the arms of love tonight,
in the one fantasy that once urged me to let go...

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

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