It walks on street at night
Also find a victum,
But,biting a victum for a neck,
Destroys my love.
When thirst of blood
It starts to howl on the Moon,
Even the God does not see sufferings
From which it is sick to it,
And when it asks about mercy
Only I only shall understand it:
I shall call its voice soft
And in embraces it I shall accept,
I shall prepare for a medicine for a pain
And forever I shall interrupt:
That high wall of sufferings
Bright light of soul I shall blow up,
And heavy circuits on heart
One wave of eyelashes I shall blow up.
Thirst of blood killed it...
The soul-on to parts perished...
But now,at last,it is free!
At a dawn will revive another...
Thirst of blood will not be so
Also there will be no it more...Such..........
Ameena Woolf de mon Real'(Hymera).