Vanité triomphante

I often hunt you in my dreams But your wicked claw awaits me Aboard this snow lit island Veins, like tortured Winter trees 'Tis the service of my hand That silence climbs upon thee You are sweet and fine to listen to Long tresses about your neck Yet much is false This mighty evening I've seen no face This is crushing me My quill it aches And old ships die like swans Against our frozen icy shore Pass your dying body I leave you in your thoughts Trees dance and fail Tell them I came My beauty pale Was yours the same? Viens, il est temps de partir. Je vais regretter ta haine. Ta vainte triomphante, Fera sa reverence I laid them in books Just your heart and mine For lovers to read The lonely to pine Through my broken skin And cherry tree blood The real world falls in A false life of love