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...and after a many summer dies the swan |
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It withers slowly in thine arms |
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All night long amorous anthems sung |
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It's tears on your cheek, history of the fan |
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Sweet is the breath of night with charm of earliest birds |
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Close over us, the silver star, thy guide |
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Dying embers, our only light (scorching away mortality Till the moon rising in clouded majesty) |
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But see the many-coloured prime retired to rest |
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Thy long tongued blood demands supplies |
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Honour and beauty are but dreams |
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Big alike with wound and dart |
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Like fiery dews that melt the swan's soul into the boughs does glide |
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Flaming swords forbidden |
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They banish me from you |
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Remembrance of a bitter loss |
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Ruined love, when it's built anew grows fairer, more strong, far greater |
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While glory crowns so many hatreds crest |
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Waking, thou wert in thy nakedness ...and after a many summer dies the swan |
