All the madness of the sweet days is lamented in the nights of the fierce summer. There is weeping for the pangs of love that does not arrive. There is suffering for flesh that is seen like the music of the battlefield.

And there arrive the dark fighters,
the flesh decked in faith and splendour,
and pleasure with its whimsical distraction,
but, 
alas,
death arrived and,
with it,
sorrow...