As the sun becomes crimson in colour She slowly dies beyond the horizon
And the land of the forlorn has once again Become a victim of darkness and solitude
Here in these vast fields of the wasteland An ancient tower face the starlit sky A symbol of an epoch now forgotten Once inside this monument of emptiness...
...A shadow dark and mystic in his shape Swept over the moisty walls in silence Once a chamberlain who were the possessor Of this and of many great sorrows
Approached some candles and made them burn The chamberlain observed the dismal light And while he stared into the very same The fire reflected in his mourning eyes
Tired of his deprorable life He kept asking himself why Still the mystery of his fate Remained unknown to himself
When the statue of his life-flame ceased to burn The grief finally took the advantage
During those crucial circumstances His life slowly faded away into emptiness
In the land of the forlorn His spirit is cursed to dwell For many, many ages to come In the land of the forlorn His spirit will never be free For many, many sleepless nights