In mute affliction, I disgorge the embryonic nodes of sorrow
On an old holm oak, companion of misfortune, both ash-grey
Under the black peppery moon
Sad place to sadden
Sadness diffuses her heady fragrance ad nauseam
On the leaves carpet sheds the haemorrhage
Depriving me of a gloom moon
The sylvan curves of the shady grove call some ribald Bacchanalia
Permeated with this scent, I roam again under lunar bright
Facing this celestial odalisque
Bending back a light we can't bear facing
By its permanence, this amber beauty reveals its part of shade
Reflecting a slave condition, for aeons, witness of a sad sight
For aeons, I purchase what I will never reach
Drained and confused among the bare trees
In the wintry h***frost, I hear the acuteness of silence
Drives me back against morbid visions
Visions of chaos, roots of evil
Arise from the dead, I'm back in the land of the living
Dead,the with morbid pleasure, in the depths of despair
I will utter from beyond the grave, in one last breath
"Mouroir, mouroir, suis-je le plus mort?"
On an old holm oak, companion of misfortune, both ash-grey
Under the black peppery moon
Sad place to sadden
Sadness diffuses her heady fragrance ad nauseam
On the leaves carpet sheds the haemorrhage
Depriving me of a gloom moon
The sylvan curves of the shady grove call some ribald Bacchanalia
Permeated with this scent, I roam again under lunar bright
Facing this celestial odalisque
Bending back a light we can't bear facing
By its permanence, this amber beauty reveals its part of shade
Reflecting a slave condition, for aeons, witness of a sad sight
For aeons, I purchase what I will never reach
Drained and confused among the bare trees
In the wintry h***frost, I hear the acuteness of silence
Drives me back against morbid visions
Visions of chaos, roots of evil
Arise from the dead, I'm back in the land of the living
Dead,the with morbid pleasure, in the depths of despair
I will utter from beyond the grave, in one last breath
"Mouroir, mouroir, suis-je le plus mort?"