Parafráze na lorda Byrona

It´s a january noon

even so darkness fell

so quicly, so soon

and on the gothic church, the bell

is shouting to the shire

its miserably sad prayer.

On the wood a rest of flag

tore from our old house,

it´s green, but I see it black

my life have been paused.

I´m lonely, I´m sad

I think I´m going mad.

Please, go away and let

me in my sweet solitude.