As silent as a sapphire star
the sinking sun expires,
while lonely lunar light from far
tranquility inspires.
The boundless, breathless ocean deep
laps lazily the shore.
Its salt sea spray and waves all weep
till death shall be no more.
Till death, no more, shall snarl and sneer
when our immortal king
will reign, and wipe away each tear,
while sorrow it will sing.
And sorrow it will always sing.
Its scars will always bear.
Like our immortal, coming king,
whose wounds he’ll always wear!