sábado, 19 de janeiro de 2013
I was told not to enter in that old tomb,
For time would be lost for ever.
But my told fate was that of the cursed tomb,
And time should be lost for ever.
Behold! Souls chanted from their enchanted doom:
Therein lieth most ruthless gloom!
Enfold! Souls panted from their enchanted room:
The monster in thy written doom!
But the gold, oh, it was greater in my womb;
And I was vile and I would smile,
To the foul face of that old Thing in the tomb;
And I should leave by afternoon.
But the gold, oh, it was so much in the tomb;
That I could scarcely breathe,
That my head began to seethe,
Until air was out for my dread and doom;
I locked myself within the tomb.
By Ericson Willians.