Gone [Neapolitan translation]

She is gone and it pains me well

The entire self is raising hell

The tears fall in a flood

Each one drips of crimson blood

The heart weeps and sighs

As the body wilts and dies

The mind says stop and remember

The ill-fated time after September

The lies cast in your path

The words, a rose in your rathe

She is gone and it pains me well

Existance in my temporal hell

Today the day is grey and sad

With moments some frustrated, mad

Tomorrow may be a day of change

Ascertaining aquaintances may arrange