Orijinal sözler
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At the gates of dawn
I will bleed again until pale death
Takes me into its hands
And I am left on my own
The moon bleeds with me
None has what one wants
The sun never crowned the night
With the richness of its colours...
The passionate play of your fingers
They stir the waters we once knew
And the sun is too late again
To see me disappear in the snow!
