Achromatism - My Soul is Dark (Brutal Shekspir) | Текст песни

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My Soul Is Dark (Brutal Shekspir)

My soul is dark – Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmur o’er mine ear.

If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
‘Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

My soul is dark!
My soul is dark!

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;

For it had been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence long;
And now ‘tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once – or yield to song

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