This story is based on real events (its Wagnerian echoes seem forced).
Helena is a modern girl who flees both cold and warmth;
An anemone, to her, is just a kaleidoscopic shape
But, for her lover Siegmund, is a thing to evaluate;
He gets beneath its skin; but the flesh is distasteful to her,
She is positively anaemic, exhausts her passions in a blur,
Til Siegmund’s violin is the only thing that still remains of him.
The cold condemning eyes of his wife, the grave eyes of his children
No longer matter now, for he is in an empty place
(Niflheim, limbo) forgetting Helena’s empty face.