"Twelve faces shape the unholy circle, One mask for every opportunity. Let this sphere must remain incomplete: As in its centre the thirteenth mask is me. If love was something I could feel, At least some kind of cheerfulness... But I feel nothing, drowned in pain, Half-frozen in my emptiness... Beyond this veneer of friendliness Lies my true face, that no one knows. This mask's a lie, so obvious and sad, My heart is empty and all is cold."