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 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; 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.