Oh how shall man of woman born approach such heights sublime?
He shall in death forever mourn his Muse of loving rhyme.
For on loves battlefield once more a mortal man lays slain
and from his eyes tears of sorrow pour, he cannot bear the pain.

Doomed to live a life in exile, his love he cannot share
though he's been dead a little while life drags by so slowly there.
There is no more colour in his world only darkness and gloom
for Love like a flower once unfurled but will now no longer bloom.

Despondent and lonely he died in his unworthiness
his Erato to woo he had tried, loves ultimate goddess.
Now he would never enfold her in his loving embrace
and he could never more behold her or look upon her face