sopor aeternus
transfiguration
Nothing in this world  Can be as immaculate and pure As the love of us Cold Ones for the dead.   Our love lives only in those fleeting moments  Of recollection Memories we're fearing to forget.  Our love knows neither kiss nor touch,  We are embracing dust, air or ourselves  When visualizing what we've lost.  Awoken by a sound or scent,   Some visions call sad phantoms, floating,  Wrapped in fading colours our  lament.   And then there is the all-devouring dread:  "some day I might not bring  him back...,  When my feeble mind can't help but lose  The contours of his face".   Lost forever, lone and sad,  Gone forever to the dead... So far beyond the barriers of the opposite space.  Yet, alas, despite it all Walking through these deserted  halls It's easy, still, to love the dead It's easier to love the dead.