Erisiptolis, font of wisdom Let us sing of a gift, where blindly Drawn to it, as with flame is a moth Let your eyes feast on the fine cloth Spring-time waters shining still Underneath the bitter trees I feel Overwhelmed to see my face Reflected, by the beauty of this lake I lay silent and awake Gaze at her artful way, Scenes of wonder to portray With no words left to say, Felt by beauty swept away, Gaze at her artful way, Scenes of wonder to portray Threads of life turn to grey, In this mirror of decay Isolate from reality She reflects on what life is meant to be A mortal body with grace of God Lying on a bed of moss Of my figure, I can't bear the loss Waiting here in solitude Reflected, under moonlight Softly played my own fatal serenade Gaze at her artful way, Scenes of wonder to portray With no words left to say, Felt by beauty swept away, Gaze at her artful way, Scenes of wonder to portray Threads of life turn to grey, In this mirror of decay Mesmerised, down to my dying day, in hollow light at my life's en, my everlasting scent