On whom the moon doth shine, my love?
It appears to be thee, my fair maiden.
When dark clouds have veiled the bright ones, I have sought
for thy grace.
When nature's haven has been corrupted by frost,
When ancient, stout trees have dried and withered,
I wrote hymns of thy majesty...
Shall I be embraced by thee, my fair graceful maiden?

Before whom grey mountains shall falleth, my love?
It was meant to be thee, my princess of autumn.
When everlasting rivers have been born out of ashes, I have
mourned for thy sorrow...
When heaven's guardians have spread ethereal wings,
When sweet scents and faerie dust have engulfed thee with
joy,
I have perished with grief...
Shall I become forsaken for thee, my pure princess of
autumn?


When eternal laments have bled upon true emotions and
mirth,
When wrath and fragile hopes, collided into an ocean of
forgetfulness,
Tears which have been shed and storms which have been cast
would not cleanse dead feelings...
And when crimson emotions shall endeth their flowing,
And when the ocean of the dead shall breaketh no more
hopes,
Futile ruins of shattered feelings shall not embrace my soul
as shall thy smile...

For whom the celestial dawn shall riseth, my hope?
It was said in higher realms, my enchanted angel.
When thou shall findeth thy true comfort, I shall shine from
within.
When thy precious dreams shall be fulfilleth,
When thy sacred essence shall be redeemed from thoughts of
sorrow,
I shall know that happiness of truth have found thee...
Then, all these conditions shall fadeth, my glorious,
enchanted angel...


For an enchanted angel... Who deserves happiness of truth...