De Profundis Clamavi

Have pity, You alone whom I adore From down this black pit where my heart is sped, A sombre universe ringed round with lead Where fear and curses the long night explore. Six months a cold sun hovers overhead; The other six is night upon this land. No beast; no stream; no wood; no leaves expand. The desert Pole is not a waste so dead. Now in the whole world there's no horror quite so cold and cruel as this glacial sun, So like old Chaos as this boundless night; I envy the least animals that run, Which can find respite in brute slumber drowned, So slowly is the skein of time unwound.