Klimt

A chilling winter night Cold and frost veil all in sight Smoke and vapor leave with every breath Yet all this, humbled by her death She slept innocently, with a smile on her face And thus entered winter’s embrace Alas, she’s passed! Without regret; Deflowered, withered, defaced – oh, dead! And now upon that fair breast - Cherubim hands, and a pendant of brass - It moves no longer, dormant at last. Dark are her eyes, as the winter night White her skin – as pale as the snow And she lay there, thus – forevermore