As the sun becomes crimson in colour 

She slowly dies beyond the horizon 



And the land of the forlorn has once again 

Become a victim of darkness and solitude 



Here in these vast fields of the wasteland 

An ancient tower face the starlit sky 

A symbol of an epoch now forgotten 

Once inside this monument of emptiness... 



...A shadow dark and mystic in his shape 

Swept over the moisty walls in silence 

Once a chamberlain who were the possessor 

Of this and of many great sorrows 



Approached some candles and made them burn 

The chamberlain observed the dismal light 

And while he stared into the very same 

The fire reflected in his mourning eyes 



Tired of his deprorable life 

He kept asking himself why 

Still the mystery of his fate 

Remained unknown to himself 



When the statue of his life-flame ceased to burn 

The grief finally took the advantage 



During those crucial circumstances 

His life slowly faded away into emptiness 



In the land of the forlorn 

His spirit is cursed to dwell 

For many, many ages to come 

In the land of the forlorn 

His spirit will never be free 

For many, many sleepless nights