Despair

My head is white, and yet my life is black...
The pages of the calendar, as leaves
Are thrown on the floor. It's my caprice.
The vein is getting brighter on the neck,
It is already difficult to breathe;
I'm desperately pulling silver back
The chain is torned, and, crumbling on my knees,
The links are lost, like me on sorrow's track.
You will be mine, I know, you will be mine.
I only need to wait a little more...
And this... It can be done at any time,
When I shall yield my armor at this war.
But now I better put away the wine
And dream of you, like many times before.

2010