An Omen of Sorrow

"Let me tell you a tragic tale."

Over mountains, across streams:
No earthly mass can veil my dreams.
She is the night; my dark bride;
The only being for which I'd die.

Six hundred years; I have not slept,
For her love; awake I kept.
Beyond the lakes, the castle calls me
Towards her graceful mystery.

The night calls me,
I still dreaming?
His words speak to me.
I still screaming?

Through distant forests and fields,
I crept swiftly and silently.
At the gates my sorrows drowned;
To look above at a gargoyle's mount.

I stole a rose from her dead garden,
With the hope that it may charm her.
But when I arose, I heard a wail,
From an ugly figure in a dark veil.

All hope is gone,
I still waiting?
The end is near;
The end is here.

Oh, how my heart bleeds
To see her lifeless body,
Gathering dust from centuries past.
Now I must believe
That I can go on hoping,
Taking each day as if it were my last.
But, my soul is [bad word] 
Everytime a tear falls,
I die.

All hope is gone.
I still waiting?
The end is here;
But I'm still alone.