My soul is colored in black and sorrow
With pen, whose tip is driven down, so deep.
I hope the flowers will yield tomorrow
and hold exquisite beasts from which they leap.

The arms of creatures curl around me now;
Their eyes are soft: dwelling havens, unfound.
They speak of words encased with kindness now.
My heart is carrying such pretty sound.

A warmth inside my chest is blossoming,
The kindled fire dispelling the despair.
The mouth of mine - wherefore do you not sing?
For singing births such lovely notes to air.

I feel the perpetual abyss ends -
How nice I am, in company of friends.