As the sun becomes crimson in colour

She slowly dies beyond the horizon



And the land of the forlorn has once again

Become a victim of darkness and solitude



Here in these vast fields of the wasteland

An ancient tower face the starlit sky

A symbol of an epoch now forgotten

Once inside this monument of emptiness...



...A shadow dark and mystic in his shape

Swept over the moisty walls in silence

Once a chamberlain who were the possessor

Of this and of many great sorrows



Approached some candles and made them burn

The chamberlain observed the dismal light

And while he stared into the very same

The fire reflected in his mourning eyes



Tired of his deprorable life

He kept asking himself why

Still the mystery of his fate

Remained unknown to himself



When the statue of his life-flame ceased to burn

The grief finally took the advantage



During those crucial circumstances

His life slowly faded away into emptiness



In the land of the forlorn

His spirit is cursed to dwell

For many, many ages to come

In the land of the forlorn

His spirit will never be free

For many, many sleepless nights