Dead Poet s Elegy 13. 08. 08

      ...Confused I face how stern and devious is reality
You conquered me with your delusion
Then I vanished into blank pages already written...

Poetry is your art. But it can't disencumber
Your life-force from the curse of the pestilent slumber
Once again on this ground you're to suffer alone
And the altar of hope lies by doom overthrown

Now you don't have a motive for some new creation
And it's better to cease your chaotic narration
From the nightmarish tales of your dismal lang syne
All the clocks stop for aye and the dogs start to whine

What's to write? You'd compose something 'bout the affliction,
That affection and love are a fancy, a fiction
But 'twill never express the intolerable woe
You believed you have buried a long time ago

But the agony's back. It's the torment's renascence
As the howl of the wolves breaks the nightly quiescence
And your spirit ascends through the cold limpid air
O'er the withering fields to the golden stars' glare

Who you were? Not a monk, not a fool, not a canter
You expect not the gardens of Eden to enter
Lost and broken, abused and betrayed by the one
You desired, you don't want any pleasures or fun

You remember the scenes of the recent collisions
But they don't rouse a wrath, they are simply the visions
Your hard thoughts are by sorrow and anguish confined
It's the true rigor mortis for your tortured mind

Your past's asking no more for the fierce retribution
To abandon the earth - it's your last resolution
Though 'tween you and your woman this lot can't be halved,
You have none to regret 'cause she made you feel loved

So, awaiting the angels of death to embrace you
You just wish the fond rays of the moon to enlace you
It's the fit way to leave - no man sees, no man knows
...And the Reaper flies near with the flock of the crows...