its the dead of the night and the stars have dozed off to sleep
only a few stray vigilantes remain awake,
like long lost souls with nothing else to do
they keep me company in mute cremony.
they are the ones who know all and see all
messengers of a formidable force, time
they see all the drama that unfolds under the night sky
and whisper their tales to the prostate, sleepy roads.
the trees are lonely like doomed boats out at sea
they lie in the midst of multitude, yet, alone forever
when the night is deep and dark as the bottom of my heart
when no light but the fire in my eyes and mirth of the stars shine
when even angels fear to tread, they call out in pitiful murmur
whispering their painful stories to the treacherous wind
who shall carry their sad stories to far and wide lands.
very far, across the roaring waves, a lonely oarsman struggles
Neptune himself shall not thwart him today for his love awaits
yet, cruel is the game destiny plays, for its Medusa that awaits
in the garb of Venus she beckons the poor man closer
until he shall have a heart as cold as she and never love again
let no bards sing nor flutes play for pain awaits us all that love
the treacherous wind, the roaring sea and the black sky can cry
for i shall not, never again,.
No comments:
Post a Comment