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Description
When the low and heavy sky weighs like a lid
upon a weary spirit, grown listless
and encompasses all the horizon
it pours upon us a black day, more dismal than night;

When earth is changed into a damp dungeon
In which Hope, as a bat,
Flits to and fro, beating the walls bloody with its wings
and bashing its head against the rotted beams;

When the harsh rain, descends upon us
in immense shafts mimicking the bars of a prison,
The silent patient spiders, quietly set to work
weaving their meshes into the depths of our brains,

All at once, a horrid cacophony of bells
Pierce the night air with ghastly howls
ravaging all solace in silence
and hang with obstinate disregard, cackling

-- Then, quiet; yet no peace,
for in the depths of my soul
Hope's broken corpse crashes to the floor
and Anguish, fierce, despotic Anguish
Plants his banner upon my drooping skull.