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Opomíjené

The Pure Nymph (Gothica)

The leaves grown dark By the autumn wind fall Cover the ground, Cover your body, The wrapping of your being That hides your true ego. The warm dew of your eyes flows, Nothing is there to wait for her, It gets lost in the void, Nothing needs their torpor. Glitter in the sun That passes through your body And immerses it in candid dazzle, The night is coming, the Orient is dancing, Whirling in his veils, voluptuous dance Wraps the world. .And the wood that contains you, Oh my goddess. And all is mystery, Possible enigma, incomprehensible fear.