Each of us bears his own Hell.
But the queen–too long she has suffered the pain of love,
hour by hour nursing the wound with her lifeblood,
consumed by the fire buried in her heart. …
His looks, his words, they pierce her heart and cling–
no peace, no rest for her body, love will give her none.
..and why the winter suns so rush to bathe themselves in the sea
and what slows down the nights to a long lingering crawl…