…this Night speaks…
A lonely sky again shudders in my thoughts
And holds me tight in my own ghostly doors
Like a whore strutting here and there
Always yearning for simple nothings that are unreal
Then this illusion of grey happiness appears
And for that tiny moment you pause and ponder:
‘May be, maybe this is the bliss meant for me
This time, yes, maybe, I can taste the ripe cherries of the west’
All these black ideas suddenly twirl in the hellish pit
Blasting you up in a Moorish heat
All flamed up and peeling of your chameleon skin
You stumble away from this battle of thieves
My poor sweet Achilles, you shall break your knees again
Only this time there will only be a scorching light at the end
Thus the more your efforts accelerate the more you must accept defeat
For this hope is only but a false pretence of thy mind amiss
Forget the day the stars schemed for thy celestial birth
And fire up the arms that will prepare you for the fateful end
Soldier up and gather all thy Mighty will that is still asleep
For fields will soon be swept by the heated blood of vanity
My friend, my dear companion of this heart
Fear not of the dark alleyways that lurk in the lonely City
But take them on as they come from here and on
And turn to your Mother ‘Moon’ and smile for what’s to come!
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου