dies We carry them all away As we glide through their lost eyes You lift me above myself With the ghostly lake of your mind Arise from your slumber in my
by your tongue. I'm working to ensnare you. Couple your name with cruelty. The mother of dying children. My hatred is unnumbered. It rises in my breast
poison my honest truth. Come dress me with your body, and comfort me. I dreamt of a dead child in my sleep. I wear a terrible mark in my head. My clean
. This is crushing me. My quill it aches. Turn loose the swans that drew my poets craft. I'll dwell in desolate cities. You burned my wings. I leave this
the chase still will my hopes pursue thee Then when my tedious hours have past, be this my last lesson given low at thine feet to breathe my last and
Tercüme: My Dying Bride. Swans Loose Turn.