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Erisiptolis, font of wisdom
Let us sing of a gift, where blindly
Drawn to it, as with flame is a moth
Let your eyes feast on the fine cloth

Spring-time waters shining still
Underneath the bitter trees I feel
Overwhelmed to see my face
Reflected, by the beauty of this lake
I lay silent and awake

Gaze at her artful way,
Scenes of wonder to portray
With no words left to say,
Felt by beauty swept away,
Gaze at her artful way,
Scenes of wonder to portray
Threads of life turn to grey,
In this mirror of decay

Isolate from reality
She reflects on what life is meant to be
A mortal body with grace of God

Lying on a bed of moss
Of my figure, I can't bear the loss
Waiting here in solitude
Reflected, under moonlight
Softly played my own fatal serenade

Gaze at her artful way,
Scenes of wonder to portray
With no words left to say,
Felt by beauty swept away,
Gaze at her artful way,
Scenes of wonder to portray
Threads of life turn to grey,
In this mirror of decay

Mesmerised, down to my dying day, in hollow light
At my life's en, my everlasting scent

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