Macbeth

The arms of twilight
are dandling my soul
and in her eyes
I see the sweetness
of a bright immortal-graced maiden
who relieves the grieves of my heart.
Wind is whispering your name
throught the clouds in the sky.
I will always remember your eyes
veiled by tears
while the night prelude
casted a spell on our glances.
The eyes of the dying sun
are looking at me
in this romantic immensity