Here I behold my shadow,
And it stares back at my horror
Giggling up at my very cold soul-
I seize fright, I take flight
There I peep through the mirror,
And panic at the radial terror
The eyes, the wrinkles, the color-
Where is death; there should be no morrow!
Before me lies my photo,
once discarded afar from aversion
How did it return to my parlor?
Who pierced its eyes, X-ed the forehead?
Then I behold my Cadaver
In the red casket, sweat on its brow-
What crime soils my hands?
Is there no peace even in Death?
In disgust I turn away-to flee
But - the toll of bells - hollow knells-
Then from behind echoes a hoarse shriek
I recoil to behold that cold cadaver
Stagger from its doomed red casket
and with its mouldy hand, blackened by damnation,
Reach for my poor soul