My first mistake became my last mistake, which was loving you

Loving you was my first mistake,

and it became my last mistake.

What did you think? That no one would love me except you?

But I found a lover who held me tightly in her embrace.

She said, "I will always be with you,

when I put you to sleep in my arms."

The world knows my love,

I am death who never refuses when called.

Still, I don’t understand why people are afraid of me,

and why they die for the disloyal (lover, life).

This world is strange,

it finds loyalty even in the disloyal.

When we had life, we used to think about death,

now that we have death, do we think about life?