A semi-circular moon in a crepuscular sky.

Indigo hues of a day that passed by.

I grieve at the tomb of my goddess on high,

And I shake my fist at this crepuscular sky.

A portentous night, cumulonimbus clouds,

Her body cocooned in funereal shroud,

Her life was plundered, plucked from a crowd,

I shake my fist and cry, “Death, be not so proud.”

A malodorous scent of decomposing musk

As the indigo hues turn darker towards dusk,

I vow revenge on that monster among us.

I shake my fist in anger; Death is ingenuous.

A semi-circular moon in a crepuscular sky,

I swear by all gods that Death, too, shall die.

He deceives us with the most ancient of lies

I shake my fist at hearing Death proselytize.

There is no universe Death can secret her from me,

No chains shall hold her in his captivity,

Not his rules. It’s an immortal eternity.

I shake my fist at Death, Mankind’s enemy.

A semi-circular moon in a crepuscular sky.

Indigo hues of a day that passed by.

I grieve at the tomb of my goddess on high,

And angrily shake my fist under this crepuscular sky.