Lorelei — текст песни (Theatre Of Tragedy)

Ferie dearest, was it loe soothfast or a faзade;
A serenade siren`d to lure - Zounds! not to court me?
A menad, yet the sweetest colleen -
Certes didst thou me unveil meekly life pristine.

Lorelei,
A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,
Yet who the hell was I to dare?
Lorelei,
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?

Dedally didst thou perform the tragic pasquinade,
For all years a damndest and driegh`d accolade -
Caus`d for all eyes mazed to behold a mкlee;
In the midst did I swainly cast thee my bouquet:
The one and sole faggot that feedeth the fire,
Bellow`d bidingly by my heart`s quailing quire.

Lorelei,
A poet of tragedies, scribe I lauds to Death,
Yet who the hell was I to dare?
Lorelei,
Canst thou not see thou to me needful art?
Canst thou not see the loss of loe painful is?

Perchance author I thee this ikon`d apologue for aught,
Doth the wecht burthen thee?, then bethink thine afterthought:
`Tween Aether and `Nether art thou the peerless phoenix -
Prithee, darlingmost! - court me rather than the peevish prolix.