il Giardino Romantico

Gone is the angel
He, who is himself without wings
Had empowered me
The ability to soar.

Gone is the muse
Though he himself created not
Enriched me with superfluous
Inspiration, hope, and light.

Gone is the harbinger
To explore and seek his own realm
But left with me bountiful
Insights of rainbows and butterflies.

Gone is he
But not his heart.
Gone is he
And I bid thee not adieu.

For adieu is for those
Who lacks faith.
The sun rises again
After sinking into sea.

I now understand
What it means:
The Forbbiden Mourning.
Thus I mourn not.

For I believe
The angel, the muse, the harbinger
Has not left me
But only gone ahead of me.

And I shall once again
Unite with him.
My angel, my muse, my harbinger:
The compass completes a full circle.


*harbinger is misspelled.