T'was the fourteenth day of the fourth summer since I suffered the loss of my dear, sweet Marie,

I had become something that not even the noblemen had predicted me to be,

I locked myself away for longer than any man has,

Leaving my depression to grow into a mass,

not knowing that my loneliness was causing social deprivation,

I left myself until I developed a bittersweet sensation,

All of this deprivation deprived my heart of relaxation.

The sound of my dearest late wives voice echoed through my head,

And I wished for the sweet release of being dead,

Because at least then I'd be with my sweet Marie.