And all the pebbled paths feel crooked and winding Behind yellow walls of reminding It feels as if someone is quite near In the garden of the dead I feel cold and lost In the garden of the dead
Tumbled tombs and broken sprouts Just outside the dear city's gates Here in the Garden of the Dead Through its enticing gates we are led Now, inside this labyrinth we grope Among the nobles, the poor and the rest A piercing wind embraces all the sick and lone Some names remain odd and ever so unknown
Once these fields were alive with infant joy Now the darkness snows from right above Like soil falling over your blessed head Soon to be laid to rest in the eternal bed
Tumbled tombs and broken sprouts Just outside the dear city's gates Here, in the Garden of the Dead Through its gates we are led The plague extends towards its prey To every cut-off fl ower without root As a tense actor tainted by the writ Sweet memories of the life we have knitTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
