心靈販子

O Thou knee, the Phantom of mine, in front of the light. Thou knowest thyself, yet thou enclosest me. O my pauper soul, liveth for long, but sicken it hath been. O Fantasy of mine, sta! sta! state! Thou coverest me in the aurora, so that dawn couldn't come upon my very body. Blessed is thou by the Fate, and I leave not thee, for I being whence thou residuest.