1. MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS

What is life?
A fleeting rush.

Crushed beneath the storm,
Submissive to desire and ambition,
I have walked a thousand paths,
All without redemption.

What remains? Only shadows,
Dense mist that wraps around me,
My heartbeats held captive,
My memory fading away.

Man who rules still dreams
Of his fleeting, hollow glory,

But death, so silent, watches—
Lived each ending to the last,
And still within my soul resound
The tears I left behind.

The poor man dreams of sorrow,
Of his mourning, of his yearning;
The wise man dreams of what once was,
And fevered by his zeal, keeps burning.

And in this prison made of foam,
We all dream but fail to see
That in the dawn of nothingness
All dissolves in mist and sea.

What is life?
A fleeting rush.

I have dreamed of many lives,
Lived each ending to the last,
And still within my soul resound
The tears I left behind.

The poor man dreams of sorrow,
Of his mourning, of his yearning;
The wise man dreams of what once was,
And fevered by his zeal, keeps burning.

And in this prison made of foam,
We all dream but fail to see
That in the dawn of nothingness
All dissolves in mist and sea.
And sea

What is life?
A fleeting rush.

What is life?
An illusion,
A shadow,
A deception.

And the greatest joy is small,
For life itself is but a dream,
And dreams…

I have dreamed of many lives,
Lived each ending to the last,
And still within my soul resound
The tears I left behind.

The poor man dreams of sorrow,
Of his mourning, of his yearning;

What is life?
A fleeting rush.

What is life?
An illusion,
A shadow,
A deception.

And the greatest joy is small,
For life itself is but a dream,
And dreams—
They fade, they fall.