Putrefaction of dream-created paradises

Blows around this mourning-filled, tired heart,

That drank only disgust out of all sweetness,

And bleeds to death in vulgar pain.

Now it beats after the rhythm of faded dances

To the cloudy melodies of despair,

Meanwhile the star-crowns of old hope

Wither on the long ago godless altar.

From the drunkenness of fragrances and wines

An extreme awake feeling of shame remained with you—

Yesterday in distorted reflection—

And everyday’s gray grief crushes you.