The long candles are melting
On the ancient parquet,
And the epaulette fringes
Form a silver cascade.

As in agony parting,
Roams the ambery wine...
All that was is departing;
What will come? I don’t mind.

In a death-seeking languor,
Starring wildly in shock,
The stunned deer are skedaddling,
But are met by a shot.

Someone’s pointing a muzzle
At the innocent breast.
All that was is departing;
What will follow its steps?

Someone wicked and skillful
Shots at random, for fun,
Flinging sharp arrowed missiles
At the feverish sun.

In a blizzard of chanting
Repetition of notes...
All that was is departing;
What will come? At what cost?