Behemian's Evening

We are on the horizon of evening which can not be return. It is very late.
This is the last chapter O my life. Pass however.
Even if reborning is imagined
We dont want to cheered up with such consolation
The endless quiet night will begin
when passing by the big door of which large wings opened in jet black space and of which behind where the sun never rises.
In those last gardens next to sunset, with pleasure
Either be ruined in enthusiasm or be heart in love
Either a tulip must open or a rose on our chest