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I could fly. I chose to burn for a thousand years of pain.

I could fly. I chose to burn, beneath I shall remain.

Centuries of waiting in dark room.

Centuries of waiting in this garden.

Time was passing slowly goading shrouds.

At this moment of my life I chose to burn.

She was lying here, on this bed of flowers.

Her blissful features glittered by the sun,

Recalling that time when we were lovers.

At this moment of my life I chose to burn.

The wind was cold throwing away the ashes.

Hours with no end inside this garden,

With no reason with only a few memories.

At this moment of my life I chose to burn.

I threw the shrouds in front of her

To cover her dead face.

She will not cry any further,

In peace now she will rest.