Wermode, great star Who fell down from heaven You empoisoned the fountains of life Bitter tears have darkened their brightness Still I bathe my lips with its vine Transience is the nature of existence Slow decay in ravages of time Cherished years, the ones we´d been given Grains of sand, washed away by the tide Lost myself in days long-forgotten Wistfulness…takes hold of my mind Bitter tears have darkened their brightness Still I bathe my lips with its vine