Thrust the dagger deeply in
How sweet would be the flow of crimson
Dreams of water running red
Washing away every impurity
Washing away every trace of evil
Oh to feel the the daggers handle
Wicked power within the hand
To thrust the dagger deeply in
How sweet would be the flow of crimson
There are those who ought feel the painful tip of the dagger's blade
Though I will remain untouched by such a wickedness as the dagger's handle
Still dreams abound filling the mind with unsettling, woeful longings
Thrust the dagger deeply in
How sweet would be the flow of crimson
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem