Time is an abyss
profound as a thousand nights
i sojourn my haste, i make respites
for what availeith this eager pace?
one step more naught to face
save the heirloom fatal kiss.
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
for lo! my own shall ne'er come to me,
yet! who doth my future narrate?
dim the lights, i cannot see!
bring forth ye shadow!
with whom danceth thou?
Time hath stopp'd
yet for others ne'er halteth
for me the pages of life do not turn,
lo! on the funeral pyre they burn.
the oh so eathing velvet darkness they fear -
heed! wherefore delve a burrow,
when in my arms "o! come here"?
i say, elsewhither is naught but sorrow!
For what deemest thou so dear thy blood
when through my veins it could flood?
bide to merry - make me unaptly
and hence grant me the fell gift,
the gift of passing on the dark trick.
'tis such a brazen act of erotic
trifle for thee, yet for me grandly thrift,
o! such an innocence depriv'd so hastily
Alas, for what deemest thou so dear thy blood
when through my veins it will flood?