This night, life is hanging heavily in me,
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as an oppressing burden,
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Repugnant by her irony of intoxicating happiness,
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Irritating by her provoking cynicism,
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As she attempts to atone
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for the little strength that remains to me,
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The last hopes, the last ethereal visions,
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The past times and those to come,
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Those who have never been and shall not be,
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Those who haunt me night and day,
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Those who try to reach but always elude
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in a blurred evanescence,
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As the water we would like to seize, he glides,
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Vanishes in a sheaf of a harassing ridicule.
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The dread is his most favourite mean,
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The anguish a terrible use,
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The despair his most devoted companion
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In the darkness where he likes to initiate me painfully,
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Where the dreams vanish slowly,
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And where the infinity of the naught comes to me,
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I feel it so close to me,
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It kisses me like a loving curse mistress
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And its breath of chrysanthemums exhales me
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The sweet fragrance of a unique j ourney...
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Without retum.
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Ethereal Visions Part I
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Aes Dana |