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Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless. Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless. Little white flowers will never awaken you, not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you. Angels have no thought of ever returning you. Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?

Gloomy Sunday.

Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all. My heart and I have decided to end it all. Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know. But let them not weep, let them know that I'm glad to go. Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you. With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.

Gloomy Sunday.

Dreaming, I was only dreaming. I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, dear. Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you. My heart is telling you how much I wanted you.

Gloomy Sunday.