Awakening the rage from black rays of hate
the years form the season of my existence
were entombed into dreams of winter whispers into their cold hands the day will drown
within the falmes of the awakening rage.
Seduced for caress of bitter winter whispers
the winds of reality change to freeza snow
as cold as my death feelings
The ruins of the fountain where seeds of life born
with the wind is gone though the gates of words
written in poemas of views from the awakening rage
Whispers of winters poems
The forzen light enlights me
this kingdom of solitude shines in black
this unanimated atmosphere dominates me
a so sadly landscape lifeless in sorrowin hate
take my hand
From the sounds of northern skies
the expression in an ilussion of sun burned in snow
I hear the voices that sacrifices
I'm seated in my throne of silence, in solitude
and with my herat under the ground I'm crying
I will never see the winter whispers end
I would like to see with death
resting in my eyes
Dreams consume me, please tell me more
I want to know
I am waiting to be eternal shadow
I was who awakes the rage
to destroy the fountain
where the deeds of my life were born
because I hate, and I suffer
Look the landscape with sunshine
Look the landscape with moonshine
Sunshine, moonshine
Just I create
This poem in my grief
to her the whispers and
always sleep in winter
and like a star my soul would shine
between the sun and moon between the same
red sky...
