1
The beauty of times whereas in dreams I see
The methodical singing herds
Ringing of times past - and all thy melody
Of forever erased words -
2
Thine eyes are of beauty, with thy soul enshrined
To soon disastrously fall,
Lo! Arceus! I shall catch thee upon my funeral mind
Like sweet stars of our royal ball.
3
Thy beating heart - thy sweet heart! - I awake and sigh,
And sleep once more to dream of the day
Of melancholy beauty that gold can never buy -
Of the tormenting that it may.
