اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Alas, Autumn... do not fear, my dearest
We are both misunderstood
Thou art the one who welcomes me
As I sweep through thy portals I shall now relieve thee
From thy colorful melancholy and sorrowful fatigue
From every word of betrayal
hangs upon an icicle of misery
a collection of tears of my past, now frozen
I mourn Man's false dreams
And the ones who think me a fool... shall lay before me,
bleeding red crystals upon my frigid smile...
into my wet, white grave
So I can touch their suffering yet feel no remorse
They pray to Summer... but they sacrifice unto me...
By J. Goth
