Klimt
A chilling winter night
Cold and frost veil all in sight
Smoke and vapor leave with every breath
Yet all this, humbled by her death
She slept innocently, with a smile on her face
And thus entered winter’s embrace
Alas, she’s passed! Without regret;
Deflowered, withered, defaced – oh, dead!
And now upon that fair breast -
Cherubim hands, and a pendant of brass -
It moves no longer, dormant at last.
Dark are her eyes, as the winter night
White her skin – as pale as the snow
And she lay there, thus – forevermore
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