| I will celebrate myself again | |
| Naked dying, proud of what I am | |
| I dream and invite my fading soul | |
| Observing human sphere at all atone | |
| Swanlike I turn away from your despair | |
| Can't you see there's no beg for pardon | |
| Swanlike I turn away from your despair | |
| A noble heart forever dying | |
| Under a fading lamp half dressed my brain | |
| Idling on some compulsive remain | |
| I towel my shaven jaw and stare | |
| Riveted by a dark exhausted flair | |
| Swanlike I turn away from your despair | |
| Naked dying, proud of what I am | |
| Swanlike I turn away from your despair | |
| Idling on some compulsive remain | |
| I look into my glass and view my wasting skin | |
| And say "would God it came to pass" | |
| My heard has shrunk as thin | |
| For then I undistrest by hearts grown cold to me | |
| Could lonely wait my endless rest with equanimity | |
| For the time being I return | |
| Now plainly in the mirror of my soul | |
| I read that I have looked my last on youth | |
| And little more for they are not made whole | |
| That reach the age of fallen Christ | |
| A silent flight takes me away | |
| From this ignorant world | |
| A final cry deep in that night | |
| Swanlike I turn away | |
| My inspiration | |
| Burning flames; glistening sounds | |
| Sapphire-dark and marrow-deep, silence around us | |
| Under a fading moon | |
| Will you ever be swanlike |
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