The candles crying blood Under the ruined arches, The moon is lighting-up The palor of the deads-undead. Under coffins of glass, Forgoten wings on cobwebs, The candles crying blood Under the ruined arches, The icons spreading blood. A coffin is broken, The walls are suppurating. A cobweb is empty of wings, On the white marble, For killing the irauns, In a corner, A cobweb is empty of wings, The window is open...