Lament Of The Perishing Roses by Theatre Of Ice
Where'er thou walkest, thou strewest roses - Thornless and deep reds are they;
Onto a beauteous path harmony thou leadest,
Where waterfalls sing their hymns of appraisal.
Germinate into green the sterile earth -
Equiponderat'd new life against decay.
Wash the macrocosm with morning dew -
Aurora of the waterfalls' encircling rainbows.
In the horizon the appearance of a blackening empyrean,
A furious whirling wind accompanied by skies of dusk.
In the lead - The Pale Horse - pulling a cart of dead deities -
The beautiful colors are drift'd away.
Black Asphodels ascend from the overcloudéd livid blossom;
Completely covering acherontic the land that was thought everlasting.