The candles crying blood
Under the ruined arches,
The moon is lighting-up
The palor of the deads-undead.
Under coffins of glass,
Forgoten wings on cobwebs,
The candles crying blood
Under the ruined arches,
The icons spreading blood.
A coffin is broken,
The walls are suppurating.
A cobweb is empty of wings,
On the white marble,
For killing the irauns,
In a corner,
A cobweb is empty of wings,
The window is open...
