Oh, what a song we sang... -
still echoes in the distance,
where the asphodels bloom luxuriantly,
on the edge of the hot earth. -
Be merry widow Proserpine,
Persephone don't cry bitterly,
when will we chill in the mud,
and the sunset will burn behind.
Is above the river cloudless, by the way,
and the water is serenely dark,
won't appreciate any of our hugs,
no desire to drink drunk,
No rush to sing in the end
about flowers on the surface of the river,
about our senseless victories,
about loved ones, so far away...
Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.