Let this stand as my final testament,
lest from now on I have no longer a heart.
A mortal soul was poisoned by lament,
from my human past I may forever part.
Unreservedly I gave my heart to thee,
yet on her frail form you carelessly tread.
How she weeps at your impetuous decree,
her fate is sealed by the shadows of dread.
Yet how regrets haunt my clairvoyant curse,
of an arctic future in which my corpse crawls on.
Yet my blood runs dry and my will withers,
perhaps, death shall grant the answers I long.
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To thyself be true my friend