Oh dismal mourning I open my weary eyes once again My life has been left hollow And ashes have filled the gorge of my within (Oportet) Last night I hope and wished I'd die in my sleep (Ubique) But no catharsis was granted to me (Pulchritudinem) Will this pain ever pass? The enchanting perfume of winter (Evanescere) And the bleak, cold breath of her still haunts me So half of me rode to the mountains And the other half soared high in the winds To a place where the angels had fallen The soil gagged and choked on their wings My soul was the pale skyline That she stretched across the horizon Two years had brought the fire That she paints upon my loathsome canvas