To the hilt
And thrill the mob of mad devils
Now huddled all around me
Those phantoms that sleep in my bed
And make a home in my brain
Those monsters to whom I'm bound
As a convict is locked to his chain
Or as a gambler to his dice
Or as a drunkard to his bottle
Or a dead dog to its lice
(Damn you I curse you all)
I cowardly call out
‘Would that a sudden thrust of the blade
Or a dose of poison release me from this madhouse
And kill me’
But both poison and sword refuse my request
My cowardice seems to say
‘You are not fit to be unchained
You fool
Suppose we saved you and you were liberated
From this Hellhole of the dead
Your kisses would soon raise the vampire
From within once again from his bed’
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