To hear the sound of widows mourning
husbands passed and children gone away.
What more can be as sorrow-filling,
lonely closing to a dying day?
Husbands passed and children gone away,
wandering souls which never find rest,
lonely closing to a dying day,
some will die and some will hope for death.
Wandering souls which never find rest,
remembrance and longing to forget,
some will die and some will hope for death,
so long living life filled with regret.
Remembrance and longing to forget
to always kill the thought of passion,
so long living life filled with regret,
always action, never emotion.
To always kill the thought of passion,
that is man’s depressing legacy.
Always action, never emotion,
ever despairing that man would see.
That is man’s depressing legacy:
walking forward, never looking up,
ever despairing that man would see
what all the mechanics cover up.
Walking forward, never looking up.
What is left when the soul takes its leave?
What all the mechanics cover up:
an empty body with worn out dreams.
What is left when the soul takes its leave?
To hear the sound of widows mourning,
an empty body with worn out dreams.
What more can be as sorrow-filling?