... about love (iniuria solvit a morem)

Crowned with a thorn of his lust
A slave of Beauty...
Like an autumn rain
which cries the silver tears
and in the God's eye
plays the traitor,
He clads the joy in sorrow,
with a colour of Night paints the dreams
to become free...
to touch the heart,
that gave him life...

Yet the lust has declined
Damned be his name

Only the tears have remained,
The pieces of ancient splendour
dipped in the torment of passion...
His sun will never rise again.

Shining with a gleam of fulfillment
...the ray of Love.

Part II - Darkness

Filfillment smeared with blood...
a dagger in Your hand

The flower of Love has died
burning with admiration for Beauty,
which has never been seen...
he didn't understand...
he did hate...