The misty landscape is empty,
I see shadows dancing and fading;
As I turn around it all seems so far behind me,
And voices gather in a dark choir.
Alya, like that morning in spring,
When the sun shone only fur us;
Alya, like that night in the autumn,
When the stars exploded only for us.
The songs I sing aren't mine,
The words seem so far away;
These poets are just other fallen angels,
They don't care of the Apocalypse!
Alya, like those words in starless nights,
When the raindrops danced before our eyes;
Alya, like the dreams warmed by sunrays,
When all our hopes and fears betrayed us.
The light of a single star,
Leads me towards my destiny;
The breath of the seven angels,
Takes away my last doubts:
If I have really to kill you one more time,
I don't care.
