And again the moon is on the wave, gliding gently into me, on silent wings the night comes from there, as my heart longs to thee...
...for in my hand I still hold the rose that froze long times ago, its leafs have withered, it ceased to grow - left in me is woe.
The wine of love, is o so sweet, but bitter is regret, I knew at sunset I would meet the ascending veils of dread.
Before my eyes nocturnal curtains fall, The dark and gentle haze of the night, greedily devours all.
The Night: Woe to him whose heart is filled with bitter rue and who drowns in grief
In the silence of the night I loose myself, it makes me drunken with its sweet blue sound.
In the drunk'ness of solitude I fear no more the solemn realms of death No single sigh from my lips as I drink the wine of bitterness My heart is aching nevermore for I know that all may end Just I and the poetry of the night Now forever one....
Just I and the poetry of the night, now forever one, The ensemble of silence plays so beautiful for me...