This pain is new;
the fire still stings my heart.
Where then shall I go?
The ones who should listen will not hear me
My grief echoes theirs; building up their dull tormént.
Hear then, mine ear, my cry, my fall –
my release, if but a while.
This pain is new;
the fire still stings my heart.
Where then shall I go?
The ones who should listen will not hear me
My grief echoes theirs; building up their dull tormént.
Hear then, mine ear, my cry, my fall –
my release, if but a while.