feelings inexplicable,
a phenomenon here i hold.
i seek for something yet to explain it;
i seek for success yet i shall hold.
wherefore did thou comest?
to be one who can love yet not do so?
why here, why now, why me?
i simply longed for some true love.

doubt still canst thou bring down my walls,
towering and endlessly scraping the skies.
even i cannot respond surely so;
hence i hide in the midnight,
behind the moon's mask, and the brightness of stars.
truly, for some days wish i it would fade by,
these inexplicable feelings, 
only impossible or so i thought.
how so to explain i can never even try.

wherefore cannot i?
never before were they deemed possible,
always seemingly strange.
this idiosyncrasy, this peculiarity,
eccentric blood running through my veins.
yet still it runs so boldly within and about;
i question now, is this myself?
for this is not which i recognize,
not that for whom i take.

i figure while now that i have rid myself,
all things that are all of you,
figure that after all i have buried away,
no lucid thought shall ever come through.
and yet after all which father time has grown older,
found i to myself a stranger, changed;
for what i know now, i am no longer myself;
myself now lies in the hole i have dug in my soul...
...none else indeed, but your lovely grave.