UmlGUG9KOFVQUjBaQ2lTc0xhcFdhUT09LS1RemUvUS9vWmFWU2dTUkZZWXpncUZnPT0=--27d7ee82e253b976ac135e52bd90f885262ab301

1:

Looking at the melancholic trees,

I tilt thy head and ask the sky:

How hath it come to this?

Spending thy days in melancholy’s kiss;

Thy nights in darkness’s bliss.

2:

It whispers to me:

The voice of the eternal past –

It tells me the perpetual torture shall cease,

If you choose to let me pass.