اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
A call to the sea,
To cleanse my soul of ill;
Of hate and depression, be freed,
My fate, thus fulfilled.
Summon me forth, the sussuration
Of the blackest tides;
No longer the shores of emptiness
Shall I tread infinietly inside.
Frigid, mournful winds
Travels the black chasms of my soul
Awaiting sweet death,
I will again be whole
Tumultuous waters extract me from
This mortality to which I'm bound;
Evolved from the body, useless
Time expired, futile life drowned.
