Pale as her mother Moon
Long golden locks waving, strings
That weave a kin's fate.
Walking through the doorwayWaiting at a father's dying bed,
I see her through the thin glass window.
I curse, I send her away,
But I'm greeted with a smile as she comes.
Generations-old homestead of many
Resigning to unavoidable task -
A Grim Reaper's curse.
A wail as loud as God's voiceAnd as she enters the room,
I see her pointing at the bed.
I can not send her away;
Vain prayers fade as she screams!
Horridly disturbing the night.
Somehow now it must cease,
What pains shall its absence leave?
And stepping on old forest's dry leaves,She left now, the voice's gone.
Family lies dead by my feet.
Honour-curse came and now left.
I, too, scream, but for no good.
Harken to the withered branches' noise,
She tries not to regret past deeds -
The scream will haunt her too one day.
[size=50]Desculpem, não consigo fazer parágrafos destacados.[/color]