Straitjacket so passionately embraces this flesh,
Gangrene paints my body the color of night and shadow.
I'm still alive, but I look so much like rotten trash
Sings alone outside the window with its hoarse voice of a crow.

We are both prisoners of this gloomy world,
One in a cage with a free mind, and the other in the wild trapped in the body of the bird,
The agony and the fear of death is repeated farewell monologue untold,
Perhaps his funeral cry will be the last one I heard.