Love, for which my anguished soul did pine-
Spirit me away, lest I drive this pain from out my heart
With Absinthe and black wine.
Oh! refutable night, starry dream I seek the morrow,
Strung out in the middle of the street, that's where you'll find me.
When the stars hang midnight weary over a passion so dim and dreary -
A passion for faded loves.
This Summer city sleeps, but I don't.
In the years that have led to the past few days,
I've known not Happiness.
In the early days of my age,
I knew not Happiness.
Softly stolen under the season's rains,
Underneath the sorrow stars...
And Winter's lament wrapped up around me.
Odd dreams are dancing in my head this night.
From this source, this fountain of fire,
Beneath fanes-up flowered walls,
Where all that lies herein devours;
What waits asunder water falls.