Oh pointless night, oh slapdash sky,
how wistfully you pass me by!
Streaming hope in starry nets,
but not for me with all my debts
to pay.
My heart of lead leaps not that way.
Oh perfect moon, half-held above,
whose crescent boon my bane in love,
and so my voice, now cracked, aflame
with dying passion, 'tis all the same
to me.
With your demise, there is no glee.
But I reminisce, within these hours,
those endless nights of wine and flowers,
our tangled limbs, so slick with sweat
from impassioned exertions, I'll not forget
your face.
Your death undid all of my grace.
Oh, my Love, I do naught but stare
through hollowed eyes dipped in despair,
and seeking answers in the air,
whose questions cause my pain to flare,
again.
Oh, hapless night! What could have been?