Fantasie no.1 in D major

Ask not of my name, Madame, for I have none.

In a strange misty past my ghastly ghost forlongs.

A heart once in flames never ended her Autumn.

She repaid his embrace with a forsaking song.

The falling leaves in exile, elegantly dancing.

Frailty is their form, the wind is their guiding.

But Madame, do you know – the leaves they are dying?

Their beauty is nothing save their grave falling.

The love of death, and the death of love,

are but the two wings of a naïve white dove.

Nowhere his home, her presence he belonged.

All dreams inspired became nightmares that haunt.

Ask not of my being, Madame, for I have none.

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Published in: on 23/01/2015 at 10:51 PM  Leave a Comment  

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