Strolling all alone across the ancient cemetery
Tell me, isn't everything here of a timeless green?
I see several visitors are also gathered here
Having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard just like me
I keep a candle burning for myself, so I won't feel all alone
We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all
A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills
Felling everybody as it crawls upon the monuments…
Only I escape its power, for the moment seem immune
Yet, two elderly ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb
Are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain:
«The dead are furious with you! As you're wasting your precious time!»
Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls
I hear the dead are calling: «Sadness lies in wait in the hours before dawn!»
These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us
They are the silent witnesses of a season about to pass
I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life's finiteness
That I am filled with fear and worry and so much shame because of this
Well, everything I see, yes, all the images are blurred
It's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world
How should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored
Considering the dreadful blindness with which I have been born
We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all
I hear the dead are calling: «Sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours…
…right before the dawn!»