I love him, I hate him
Air of death, blade of agony
My senses fail me when he draws near
how to play a woman’s heart
Caring, but in pain himself
Lies, deception, torment
Am I the only one who is suffering?
Perhaps he suffers a great deal more.
His torment is my pleasure
His fire is the wind that lifts me up.
One born of darkness will die in darkness.
A word from his lips will silence me,
For it is my will to do his bidding.
Indeed this one who is dark,
May perhaps be my salvation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem