In the Lake
fanno Cocito; e qual sia quello stagno,
tu il vederai: però qui non si conta
Inferno, Canto XIV—119,120
Each memory swims in the lake at night.
In the lake at night, without the Light,
When all is calm, but my vision is blurred,
But the burble of water is all that is heard.
My body is lifeless, so too the thought
Of what it could be in my memories caught.
A hope? What hope could there possibly be?
In the lake at night, on the lake with me.
The echoes, echoes, echoes. Woeful the sound,
But who screams in pain as all horrors abound?
Is it me? It is me! We all sound the same,
In this desolate place where a voice calls my name.
I struggle to see, but I hope I might
In the lake at night, without the Light,
Find a reason. The reason? Cold? Could it be?
In the lake at night, on the lake with me.
The pained voice sighs. Whose is this? Is it mine?
In the lake, from the lake, an unerring sign
That insanity calls. A mind split in two,
Realizing the change, but there's naught I can do.
My futile existence is drenched in the waves
Of a shivering body that no longer behaves
The way that it ought. What else could it be?
In the lake at night, on the lake with me.