More beautiful and terrible
Than shooting stars when I was young.
The moon is blood and all is lost-
So now I see; I understand
That this is Human-Folly's cost.
Alas that it should be my years
To spend in such a wretched time
As these, these days of hopeless tears.
The sky once flickered but now stands still-
The sun blows out like a candle-flame
And darkness comes to drink its fill.
You'd think that this was falling snow,
Patching up the winter ground,
But no, it's only scorching ash, to burn my face before I go.
I look to see the one last star,
Watching it bloom and then waver away,
I realize that the end of my life
Will herald the end of this day.
With eyes' last sight I see the ground
Where once a monument had stood,
And I know that Human Pride is nothing
In these days when stars fall, and the moon is blood.