Winter lays its snow-white gown
O'er the grave's black roses,
Me, the dragon, closes
The book of his ancient crown.

Silence spreads its sighing wings
O'er tombs of beggars, kings,
Sleeping in these mourning graves,
Beds of servants, knights and knaves.
Ne'er didst thou call for me,
So cowardish thou didst then flee,
I have come too late for thee,
Korak's flames thou didst not see.

So it ends, and nothing is left,
Only this epitaph, dressed with rain and tears,
Telling the tale of thy fatal sorrow and pain...
Thine shall be this kingdom,
Where the wind howls and the moon doth shine,
Where the rain plays thee a requiem,
Where the stars enlighten thy tombstone...