Crimson of the fallen heart
soothes the pain of morrow.
Carefree love is like a wildfire tearing apart,
as raging dragons dancing among the stars.
Alas! Sorrow I want to rid from my heart!
But sown it is deep by little hands thorough.
As embers shine, far in thick darkness, as quick dart.
The warm light creeps into my chamber trough iron bars.
By narrow needles into my bosom – poison is painted like art.
No longer cures the wasteland herb – medicine of sweet yarrow.
Woven… Old as ancient songs is the desire
that drives me and sang by the Eternal Choir.