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burdens of grief that weigh against me aid my tired eyes in their search for pitch your kind heart now pines for whom the gods love dies young wrapped and confounded in a thousand fears the sadness I present, smiles with tears where once I'd loved now lies forlorn beauty and wars abhorred by mothers
no man lives so poor as he was born we don't remember pure sensations gaze peacefully into the past I am dust, and to dust I shall return belial, mephisto, both shall burn me up devour my sad whimperings the cutting whip is mine to feel no symphony in mind to colour my dreams
poena damni sorrow everywhere please pray for me when deep sleep falls on men father hold me I am yours to bear ad te
in the play which he has written for the world night is the mother of sleep old age is a malady of which one dies augury of a better age sages as far as the beard their wounds smelled so sweetly temptation, the father of my lust chalcedony shines like the new born
stricken I'd raise my dripping limbs splendid was the innocents fall laugh to scorn would our foe amid wars laws are silent drop by drop in sleep upon the heart falls the laborious memory of pain in the rich upheavel of vast choirs death shall flee from me
