The misty landscape is empty, I see shadows dancing and fading; As I turn around it all seems so far behind me, And voices gather in a dark choir. Alya, like that morning in spring, When the sun shone only fur us; Alya, like that night in the autumn, When the stars exploded only for us. The songs I sing aren't mine, The words seem so far away; These poets are just other fallen angels, They don't care of the Apocalypse! Alya, like those words in starless nights, When the raindrops danced before our eyes; Alya, like the dreams warmed by sunrays, When all our hopes and fears betrayed us. The light of a single star, Leads me towards my destiny; The breath of the seven angels, Takes away my last doubts: If I have really to k** you one more time, I don't care.