Beatrik

The fullmoon, of late ethereal autumn
Is the coldest and most melancholic
All is dismal and void of life
under this December's moonlight

This Requiem of December is the deepest and grey
Mourning and melancholia attend me in this Requiem

No trace of light, within my eyes,
Nor on my face so pale
Reciting this funeral melody I wore my black dress
This is my blue memory of an extinguishing life