I went through all my former wishes,
I stopped to love my former dreams;
In my poor soul stays affliction --
Result of empty-heart disease.
Under the fate's fiendish tempests,
My wreath of flowers had waned --
I live alone with my sadness,
And wait: when will come my end?
Like, when a snowstorm is whistling,
Alone, on the bare twigs,
The latest leaf is sadly twisting
Under the cold's deadly stings.