Croatian Tales of Long Ago - Rusalka

Your face, flushed and distorted by the effort of extinguishing the life out of me, is the only face I remember from my time as a woman. It is the only memory I have now. I cherish it as the anger permeates my body and inspires my song. When I sing about you, men who hear my song go mad. If women hear it, they become cruel, vindictive creatures. Just like me.

But in a moment or two you will be no more. This hell is all but over for me.

What expects you when your life ends, I do not know. But I wish you to remember my song and never to rest in peace.