When in the night in lonely hours
I dream of you, of your embrace,
I feel my sadness, my thinnest power
And think of you in latest hours.
I'm pale, more pale than white
Alone, in the darkness of the night,
I look to the stars, they seem so bright,
Like my soul was with him beside.
But now he's gone, so is his love.
He's gone with my life; I feel my fever.
My fever's emptiness and loneliness
And more than that, it is death.