The snow shone black under his eyes
They were blood-red gold and hot as ice
He was a creature made for the night
That was alight around him
The day was dark and dismal to him
The world then would not bend to his every whim
He was a creature made to enchant
All vain maidens of beauty
He was a lover with whom none could compare
The eyes of women shone to him everywhere
But all he longed for was the sweetness of death
Where his true love lay to not meet him yet
