Tired to exist, I whish I wasn't born,
Tired of following the movement I want to stop in the bend,
Wearied from living, I don't want to continue,
Wearied of my live, every step of which is a step in the boredom,
Saddened of that world whole around, of this world sometimes loveless,
saddened of that dark landscape, those monstrous picture,
Intoxicated by the lies, which faint only in my dreams,
Intoxicated of a night without day, from a darkness which always lasts,
my soul is mortified in the sight of the reality,
How can it be ? is it my world ?
my life is boring and so useless,
everything invites me to leave her...