White as snow lie my lover's bones
|
in the soft, velvet soil of the vault,
|
And I, his bride, sleep by his side,
|
To celebrate our sacred love.
|
At times it seems that I'm existing only
|
within some fading memory,
|
But dreams are all sacred, dreams are all holy ... -
|
And, by far, still the safest place for my poor soul to be.
|
|
Do not speak of the terrible place
|
that guided your war-horse and your living stake !
|
We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead,
|
We are blessed with the corpses that coil 'round our necks.
|
Please, don't speak of that terrible place,
|
That once guided your war-horse and your living stake !
|
|
We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead,
|
Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks.
|
|
I caught a glimpse of myself on the other sphere
|
and for a fleeting moment I forgot the tears.
|
Dreams are precious ... and - OH - so is sleep,
|
This, my safest, yet ... by far ... the most fragile of all retreats.
|
|
Do not speak of the terrible place
|
that guided your war-horse and your living stake !
|
We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead.
|
We are blessed with the corpses that coil 'round our necks.
|
|
Please, don't speak of that terrible place
|
that once guided your war-horse and your living stake !
|
We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead,
|
Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks ...
|
|
-----------------
|
The Dreadful Mirror
|
| Sopor Aeternus |
