✿✽ ♥ ❀ ❁ Béa ♧ ° ♡✧

He who sits alone in his chamber And weeps heavy, bitter tears He to whom only distress and misery tinge The surrounding neighborhood seems

He who gazes into the image of bygone times As deep as into an abyss Into which a sweet woe draws him down from all sides

It is as if wondrous treasures lay Heaped down there for him For whose castle he reaches in wild haste With breathless breast he grasps. The future lies in desolate aridity, terribly long and anxious before him. He wanders about, alone and lost, And seeks himself with impetuosity.

I fall weeping into his arms. I, too, once felt as you do. But I recovered from my sorrow And now know where one rests eternally.

You, like me, must be comforted by a being who loved, suffered, and died deeply. He forgave all those who had wronged him most with a thousand joys.

He died, and yet every day you hear You love him and his love

And you can confidently, in any situation, tenderly pull him into your arms

What you lost, he has found You find in him what you loved