The beauty of dawn, the beauty of day,
Like my love, washed away.
The beauty of dusk, the beauty of night,
Like my love, gone from sight.
Like Homer's heroes, like Vigil's men,
I am lost and alone, trapped in a foul den.
Who can ask for help or aid?
Who can stop the unending blade?
Death takes, and cares not,
To remember and mourn is our lot.
The beauty of death, the beauty of life,
Here I mourn without my wife.
In cold winds and cruel weather,
I remember how we stood together,
beneath the trees, beneath the stars,
how we dreamed of Saturn, Neptune and Mars.
You left me here alone, when you did die,
so here I stand, filled with grief, and with a mournful sigh,
I look above and ask a single question, "Why?"