Woe to this flesh which is at the mercy of the soul, and woe to this soul, at the mercy of the flesh.
We don’t know how to say goodbye,
We wander on, shoulder to shoulder
Already the sun is going down
You’re moody, and I am your shadow.
Let’s step inside a church, hear prayers, masses for the dead
Why are we so different from the rest?
Outside in the graveyard we sit on a frozen branch.
That stick in your hand is tracing
Mansions in the snow in which we will always be together.
What do you want?” I asked.
“To be with you in hell,” he said.
I’ve things to do today:
I must crush memory down,
I must turn my heart to stone,
I must try living, again.