Prisoner Of A Morbid Cradle

When I awake the darkness of a sinisterly terror swoops down on me as proud and cruel birds of prey.
I grope my prison, miserable and whimpering.
My cell is so narrow that I can hardly move fated to this imprisoning gaul because of an unknown lack.
I can find neither door nor window and I feel in me and horrible panic.
O Hell would be a delight for me!
I would like more suffer thousand pairs forever feel fire, iron, whip, blade on my skin rather than stay in this hole.
My life will be now a ghastly loneliness.
O two beast at least would curl up both!
I scratch, I scratch , I break my nails against the wooden wall...
Is there therefore no glimmer of hope?
Over me, the human indifference...
I was fated, sentenced and Ive already died, forgotten by all.
Over me, round me, an immensity of earth smothers me...
Skin if a gate too weak and will succumb flagly to Death...
O Hell would be a delight for me! I would prefer suffer thousand pairs forever rather than know me shrouded.
Im the buried alive who struggles and whires in vain... My prison is my coffin.
Its kisses of earth will fill my mouth, my eyes, my heart, my body!
My corpse will be in pasture to the vermin which will dip out of me the strength to swarm.
The absurdity of my destiny blinds me...
I resign myself and Im dying... Im dying, Im...