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My eyes are lifting toward the silver flowers of the black garb of night,
I whisp the words of salvation and I beseech,
I tender beseech this silent witness of evil for a deliveration.

I feel the pain of dying beauty, two inert crystal pearls shed the tears over our vanity.
A touch of happiness before the bloom of anger and despair.
I want to go by journey of my silent dead memories
as to start of my gate of happiness,
I´ll give drink to you from goblet of my faith.

You´ll search your lost paradise,
you´ll go wrong to own heart and there you´ll find the pain
and memories of blew aeons of happiness.

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