Holded by hallucinations and cold curse songs I mutter holding the things which forget directions With no everlasting feelings and mysterious delights I yield myself to fear holding my breath Looking at the black shadow and hearing numberless voices hurting my feeling The cursed dark temple is like a mirage leading to the outside world Gold luster! Dark icon! Cold underground wind Waver flame! Picture with color glasses! Like animals' blood scars The eyes get a light and are upon a vision strain ones' ear I wait the time The eyes lose the light and are upon the darkness with sweet smells Категория: