|
The gravediggers lick their lips |
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And push their shovels against the earth |
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In anticipation, they discretely look my way |
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No, no, I reproach |
|
You've come for the wrong one today |
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I don't have the strength to walk away |
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I wait, afraid |
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I pray |
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They stand together, discuissing my fate |
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The wind carries to them my assurances |
|
There's still warm blood coursing through these veins |
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Impure thoughts inside this brain |
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I wake with a start in a luxurious warm bed |
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Beyond the curtains, I see the cathedral |
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And at her feet, the gravediggers work |
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They turn my way, shouting and smiling mockingly |
|
I throw open the delicate lock |
|
Snow rushes in to fall on me |
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No, no, I reproach |
|
You've come for the wrong one, I'm afraid |
|
They look at me incredulously |
|
They wait improperly, eyes devouring me |
|
In anticipation, they discretely look my way |
