4th Journal last entry

Flow, my tears, fall from your springs!
Exiled forever, let me mourn;
Where night’s black bird her sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorn.

From the highest spire of contentment
My fortune is thrown;
And tears and sighs and groans my weary days
Of all joys have deprived.

Never may my torment be relieved,
Since pity is fled;
Pain, fear and grief are my lot;
True woe is a heart misled.

Down vain lights, shine you no more!
No nights are dark enough for those
That in despair their lost fortunes deplore;
Light doth but shame disclose.

Hark! you shadows that in darkness dwell,
May you contemn light,
Fortunate they that in hell
Feel not the world’s despite.

4th Journal last entry

Amnesia Korut_Zelva